


In the Arms of the Healer

by toastkat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Lemon, Lesbian Sex, Oral Sex, Surprise Dick, Vaginal Sex, Yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 05:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13381371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastkat/pseuds/toastkat
Summary: When an Egyptian Lapis falls -- literally -- into Angela's lap, she embarks on an adventure that will challenge her understanding of dragons and unlock her forgotten past. Dragons AU.





	1. Chapter 1

The explosion woke Angela. Though she was a light sleeper to begin with, the roar of the dragon and the shuddering of the earth around her tiny hut would have woken even the dead. But for Angela, the roar of the dragon had made her eyes shoot open, the shattering of endless trees made her heart go still, and the quaking of the ground as the beast made impact riled her out of bed. She didn’t know what time it was; she couldn’t afford a clock. She covered herself with a robe and then her cloak, her heavy winter socks and then her boots. She didn’t bother with her hair or her gloves; she didn’t care about how she looked. With shaking hands she stoked the fire at her hearth, just enough to see by and to light a candle that went into a lamp. She gathered anything she could grab and shoved it into a basket, looping it into the crook of her elbow as she took lamp in hand.

Between the trees of the dense woods around her isolated cottage, Angela could see the windows of the distant village illuminated by candles and hearths. The villagers were stirring, no doubt awakened by the same thing that had woke her. It wouldn’t be long before they organized a search.

The snow slowed her down. The white mess up to her shins, Angela couldn’t run. The villagers would have hounds, they’d have horses, and they’d have snowshoes. She cussed both mentally and verbally as she struggled with the hidden underbrush and snow. The crisp night air became increasingly refreshing as she sweated from the exertion. She had gleaned this forest before, but never in a foot of snow. 

She almost passed right by the crash site.

A line of trees had been demolished, sliced by wings at a descending angle pointing to the mound of dislodged earth and snow that steamed with heat where the dragon lay. Angela could see it in the moonlight, a dark form against the white snow. She stepped toward it cautiously. Was it dead? Was it alive? She held her breath and held still, watching. Waiting. Movement. It was still alive. As she drew closer, the light of her lamp gave the form shape and color.

The dragon was halfway between its transformation from dragon to human. The shape of her, or at least Angela assumed it was a her, was humanoid, but her legs from her hips down were enlarged, covered in thick scales, and her feet were claws. Her arms were the same; from her shoulder down were scales and claws. Her wings were outstretched, and her tail was withering before Angela’s eyes. The claws became hands and feet, and scales melted into thick armor. Heavy plating covered the draconian woman’s torso, and a helmet hid her face.

Angela set the lamp in the snow, the accumulation blocking out some of the light. The dragon groaned as Angela knelt beside her, reaching gently towards the draconian woman. Her hand was swatted away with a growl.

“Entspannen sie sich. Ich werde dich nicht verletzen,” Angela whispered, reaching again for the dragon’s shoulder. She had to get the woman up and moving, but without knowing the extent of her wounds, doing so would be dangerous. If the draconian were capable of defending herself from a human woman, though, perhaps she was capable of being moved.

“Tarajue,” the armored woman snarled, baring gleaming ivory fangs.

The human sighed. “Do you speak English?”

“Yes. Back off.”

By now the transformation was nearly complete. Except for the wings. Her wings laid behind her limply on the ground, and the plate of armor on her back didn’t form, exposing sandy, dark skin to the winter night. Angela lifted her lamp and leaned over the other woman to take a closer look. One wing was bent at strange angles in places, and another had obvious tears. A closer examination in better light would be needed. “Are your wings the only thing broken?”

“And my pride,” was the grumbled answer.

Angela smiled weakly. “Good. That means I can move you.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because a dragon-hating village is on its way to finish you off.”

“Let them.”

Angela stopped. She leaned back and reached for the golden visor of the dragon’s helmet. She had only meant to lift the visor, but the whole helmet toppled off. The dark-skinned woman didn’t look at Angela; her dark honey eyes stared into the abyss of the forest around them. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily.

“I have dishonored my family, my name by allowing myself to be downed so easily by a mere spider,” the draconian continued. “It matters not if I live.”

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. “Oh, um himmels willen. You are being overly dramatic over simple wounds. You will live. Now get up, and I will take you to a place of safety.”

Dark eyes turned to Angela, narrowed at her. “Why? Why grant a dragon kindness?”

“Do not question, do not argue.” She took a moment to gather her things, putting the fallen helmet in her basket. Angela lifted herself to a kneel and grabbed the dragon’s arm, wrapping it around her shoulder. Shakily she pushed herself to her feet, dragging the draconian to her knees, and then to her feet. Her wings hung limply behind her like a ruined leather cloak. “Is your arm broken?” The draconian shook her head. “Then you hold the lamp. Out, in front of us, to light the path.” Angela grabbed the lamp and handed it to the dragon, then scooped up her basket. “Ready?”

“I suppose…”

“Good.”

Angela almost didn’t need the light. The tracks she had left herself were visible enough to follow. The hunting party would be just behind them. She could hear the dogs already. The journey back seemed quicker, despite the weight against her. Angela supposed it was that the trampled snow no longer impeded her, or that she knew where she was going. Regardless, she returned to her cottage before the villagers, which was more than she could ask for. Whether or not they would trace their tracks back to her home was another story, and it was an inevitability she’d have to prepare for. For the moment, all she could do was bolt her door and pray.

The draconian was unceremoniously dumped onto her bed. Angela fluttered about her tiny cabin, hanging her cloak and setting her boots by the fire to dry. The fire itself was stoked and fed until the blaze filled the room with light and warmth. Her basket was set on the floor next to the bed. Her companion was already laying on her stomach, half-hanging off the bed. Smiling to herself, Angela blew the candle out and hung the lamp on a rafter. She opened the door to scoop up fresh snow, stuffing clumps into a kettle which was sprinkled with herbs and hung over the fire. With tea brewing, Angela set to work on her companion.

She started at the dragon’s legs, which had fully transformed to armored humanoid legs. Angela worked from the feet upwards, releasing the straps and buckles of the armor until it fell away piece by piece. The dragon didn’t fight back. In fact, she helpfully lifted one leg for Angela to work, and then the other. She lifted her hips so the human could remove the armor from her thighs, and she pushed herself up on her arms to allow the breastplate to come off. She even lifted her arms, resting them briefly in Angela’s lap. Underneath the armor, the draconian wore a black cotton shirt, trousers, and socks. The shirt was torn in the back to allow for her wings to extend. They were the only part of her that hadn’t transformed, and Angela assumed this was because of the nature of the wounds.

With muted effort, she adjusted the dragon so that she laid in the bed properly, her long wings falling to either side. The dragon squirmed slightly at the position, constantly shifting as if trying to become more comfortable. When Angela realized why, she cursed at her own stupidity. Using stacks of books, she laid the wings stretched out in alignment with the dragon’s shoulders. The wounded dragon seemed to relax once both wings were propped up. The tea kettle whistled. Someone pounded on Angela’s door. She wasn’t sure which to address first.

Angela went to the door first. She unlocked the bar, but kept the chain lock in place. Opening it only a little, she was nose-to-chest with a villager. A massive man, Vilhelm could easily kick in the door. Angela knew he wouldn’t though. The old man, though a giant and scarred, was one of the few kind men of the village that spoke to her and treated her as an equal and not a threat. She relaxed a little seeing him, opening the door just a little more.

“Yes, what is it?” Angela asked, genuinely concerned now. 

“Are you alright? A dragon came down not far from here, and there’s a series of tracks that lead up to your door and around your cabin.”

She hesitated. She hadn’t seen any other tracks around her little house. Angela shook her head. “So that’s what that noise was. I’m fine. I thought I heard a bear prowling around, but no one came to my door. I was just brewing myself some tea to help me go back to sleep.”

The old warrior nodded. She saw him glance above her head into her house, but what she saw, she wasn’t sure. All she could hope was that he didn’t notice the prone body in her bed or the mess of armor strewn about her cabin floor. Again, Vilhelm nodded. He looked back down at Angela and smiled. “Sorry for disturbing you.” He walked away at that, several other villagers trailing after him.

Angela closed the door and bolted the locks. Only after the last bar was in place did she sigh in relief. With a thick mitten, she removed the kettle from the flame and poured some of the tea into a cup. She sweetened it with honey before taking it to the prone dragon, kneeling beside the bed.

“Drink this,” Angela instructed. “It will help with the pain.”

The dragon pushed herself up onto her elbows, wincing in the process, and took the mug. She sipped it at first, then drank the rest quickly. Angela’s eyebrows rose in quiet surprise, but she said nothing as she took the cup back. Again, she wished she could note the time. All she could do was gauge her patient’s pain by her actions. The dragon laid back down carefully, her eyes closing. Angela paced back and forth from one side of the bed to the other, examining the wings and analyzing what needed to be done.

A bone was broken on the right side, she was sure, and both wings were torn in several places. Some of the tears were rips caused from the trees the dragon fell through. One tear in particular was a bullet hole. Angela touched the leathery membrane with delicate fingers, the caress enough to cause the dragon to flinch. The human nodded to herself.

“Your wounds are not so bad that I cannot mend them,” Angela told the draconian woman, kneeling next to the bed so they were at eye level. “There are two ways I can go about this. One way is quick, but painful. Very painful. I do not recommend it. The other way is traditional. It is splints and salves, time and patience. It will hurt, but it is the natural way.”

“Why tell me?”

“To let you choose. Is your mission so important that you must accomplish it now? Or can it wait for your injuries to heal?” 

The dragon didn’t answer immediately. She looked away from Angela, rolled away from her entirely to consider her options. The human only shrugged and stood.

“I need time,” the dragon finally said out loud. “There is a dragon in this region that I must deliver a message to, but I do not know his location. Only his name.”

“Reinhardt.”

The dragon nodded. “You know of him.”

Angela scooted her wooden rocking chair close to the bed that they could converse, but not so close that she endangered contact with the wounded wings. “He is a dragon that lurks in this area. They say he lives in an abandoned castle in the mountains and steals livestock from our fields for his meals. Legend has it that a warrior long ago gave him his distinct scar over one eye, but none have been able to find or wound him since. I have seen him in the skies. He is so large that he casts a shadow over the whole of the village.”

“Hm.” The draconian woman shifted once more to face Angela. “How would I find him, then?”

The human shrugged, draping a blanket over the draconian up to where her wings met her back. She grabbed a second blanket for herself, wrapping it around her own shoulders before she settled into her rocking chair. “Once you are able to fly, you could search the mountains. But I assume that is how you came into this position…”

Again, the dragon nodded. “Widowmaker,” she hissed. “Talon must have learned of my mission and sent her here to stop me.”

“Talon?”

“Dragons and dragon hunters with darkness in their hearts. They fight for chaos and control, to dominate and enslave human and dragon allike. We do not know all of their members, only a small handful of their agents and lieutenants. Widowmaker is one of their numbers, a poisonous siren dragon. She is beautiful and deadly. We have reason to believe she is being controlled against her will, but Athena believes she cannot be saved.”

“Who is Athena?”

The draconian woman hesitated. “I have told you too much.”

Angela smiled. “I wouldn’t say so. You have not yet told me your name.”

Another moment of hesitation. The draconian’s amber eyes flickered from Angela to her broken wings, to the stack of books holding her wings up. Her gaze lifted to Angela’s. “Fareeha,” she answered finally.

“Pleased to meet you Fareeha.” She stumbled with the exotic accent, but the other woman only smiled. “I am Angela.”

“Angela.” Fareeha’s eyes closed. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Your treatment will be painful enough that you will come to hate me.” She shed her blanket and stood. “Has the tea helped your pain?” Fareeha only nodded. “Then I will set your bones and splint them. Once the bones are splinted, you should be able to fold your wings. I can apply a salve to the tears in your wings, but until they are mended, you will not be able to fly.”

“Understood.”

Angela gathered the things she’d need. Wooden dowels and plaster for the splint were set next to the prone woman, herbs and oils were laid out on a worktable. A piece of leather was brought to Fareeha, and Angela nudged her cheek with it. “In case the pain is too much.”

Fareeha swatted it away. “I do not need it.”

The blonde quietly nodded and set it aside, within reach should the draconian change her mind. She laid a wooden dowel parallel to the broken bone and, without warning, snapped the bone back into place. Fareeha seized in pain, but made no sound and did not struggle. Angela didn’t let go of the bone and dowel, waiting for her patient to relax before she continued. When Fareeha settled back onto her stomach, the human resumed her work. The wooden dowel flush against the broken bone, she used adhesive to hold the dowel temporarily in place. As much as she wanted to use clamps, she neither had them nor did she want to pinch the delicate nerves of the wing membrane. Instead, she wove the plaster back and forth over dowel and bone, squeezing it tight as it dried. Fareeha flinched with each squeeze, but didn’t protest. When Angela finished, both deeply sighed.

A second cup of tea was poured and sweetened, then offered to the wounded dragon. Fareeha took it and drank it down, making a face at it. “It tastes strange cold,” she commented, handing the cup back to Angela.

“Let’s hope you won’t need to drink more,” Angela replied with a smile. “Rest.”

Fareeha quietly nodded and closed her eyes. She didn’t snore, but Angela knew by the dragon’s breathing that she slumbered. The human shook her head, humming as she made a poultice in a mortar and pestle. She worked the paste until it was just the right texture, the effort causing her to sweat once more. The bowl of mush was brought to Fareeha’s side. Crawling on her hands and knees, she adhered gauze to the underside of the outstretched wings. Light fingers gently smeared the herb and oil paste along the edges of the torn membrane. Her fingers still oily, she covered the wounds with another layer of adhesive gauze.

Angela stepped back and admired her work. Come the morning, the dragon should be able to move her wings. She unlocked her door and left the cabin only for a moment to wash her hands in the snow, and returning inside, she locked her door once more. Her work area was diligently tidied up, and the mess of scattered armor stowed in a spare chest.

She could feel the pre-dawn light on the windows as she settled in her rocking chair once more. Gently swaying back and forth, Angela closed her eyes and returned to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The kiss of cold air on her cheek woke Angela, her eyes opening just in time to see the door of her cabin close. The bed was empty. Her heart in her throat, Angela flung the blanket from her person and stepped into her boots, dashing outside after Fareeha. She didn’t go far, stopping at the sight of the cloaked dragon chopping firewood. Her wounded wings were hidden from sight. Fareeha paused mid-swing, lowering the axe to meet Angela’s gaze. The blonde sighed and smiled.

“O-oh. Pardon me. I...Carry on,” she stammered, ducking back into the cottage.

Taking off her boots to set next to the fire, Angela mulled over the night before. She had rescued a dragon. The thought sent heat up her spine to the back of her neck. Why? She was putting herself and her village in danger. Dragons couldn’t be trusted, and it was enough that they had one dragon in the region already. What would happen if there were two here? She took the cold kettle from the hearth, and opened the shutters and the window. Leaning outside, she could see the tracks Vilhelm had mentioned. Someone _had_ been lurking around her cabin. The tracks were even more trampled outside her windows. Had they been listening? Had they been trying to get inside? It couldn’t have been a villager. Her home would be ashes and Fareeha would have been slain by now if it had been. So who was it?

She poured out the tea and gathered fresh snow, closing the window and locking the shutters. To the kettle, she added plain tea leaves and set it on the fire to boil once more. She stoked the blaze and quickly dressed while she had the opportunity. Angela didn’t have the money to afford the nice gowns and tunics other women had. She was forced to settle on plain cotton and woolen gowns, worn so often that she’d had to resew the seams and patch tears and holes with scraps. Her knitted stockings were payment from an old granny years ago, stretched and loose from being grown into, and even her corset was old enough that she’d had to repair it or go without. Over it all she wore an apron of many pockets. She ran a brush through her short hair, and she had just tugged it into a stubby ponytail when the door to her cabin swung open and Fareeha entered. The dragon carried a stack of wood under one arm, closing the door behind her with the other.

That wave of heat tickled Angela’s spine once more as the dragon’s amber eyes raked over her from head to toe and back up again. Whether or not Fareeha approved of what she saw couldn’t be read from her face, which remained so serious and stoic that it made Angela want to tease her, just to see if the other woman could smile at all. Instead, she simply stood there awkwardly under the other woman’s gaze until finally Fareeha turned away, setting the lumber into a nearly empty iron cradle of firewood. The spell broken, Angela found her voice.

“Would you like some tea? Or some water, with lemon and honey?” She offered, not sure of what else to say or do. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a guest that wasn’t a patient.

“Either is fine,” Fareeha answered, leaning the wood axe against the wall where she had found it. She watched Angela scurry for a chipped clay mug, filling it with water from a hanging skin. A slice of lemon from a jar was added, as well as a bit of honey. Angela stirred it together with a small metal stick, then offered the mug to her exotic counterpart. As she took the cup, Fareeha’s hand held Angela’s in her own for a moment longer than needed. Whether or not the gesture was intentional was beyond Angela. The heat from her back crept up to Angela’s neck and face until she wondered if she needed the layers of cloth for warmth after all. Looking up again, she saw Fareeha smirking. “The offering of water is considered a marriage pact in my homeland,” she informed Angela.

“Well here it is to keep you from getting dehydrated,” Angela replied quickly, slipping her hand out of Fareeha’s grasp. She served herself tea as well and took it to her workbench. She spoke as she sorted through her basket from the night before, putting things away. “Do not make the assumption that I have done anything for you with ulterior motives. It is my sacred duty to heal the wounded and treat the ill, regardless of race or creed. I am merely doing my job.”

The dragon’s smirk faded. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to offend you with such talk.”

“I’m not offended,” Angela defended, her face still an embarrassed pink. “I am simply trying to avoid any misunderstanding that may occur.” She sighed, sipping her own tea and allowing the mug to hide her face. “I didn’t want you to think that I’m doing this to curry favor with the dragon court or for a reward. My work is purely selfless.”

Fareeha’s eyes narrowed at the blonde, but she said nothing as she downed her sweetened water. Sipping her own tea, Angela looked over the draconian woman, seeing that not only had Fareeha absconded with one of her spare cloaks, but also a pair of boots and some of her spare furs. If not for her darkened skin, her _wadjet_ tattoo, or the golden ornaments of her hair, Fareeha looked as if she could fit in with the village. Angela let her eyes fall and the thought floated away.

“I must go to the village,” Angela said into her cup of tea. “I have deliveries to make. If you wish, you may accompany me, but I wouldn’t recommend it. The villagers will be suspicious of you, because you are a stranger and the shape-shifting powers of dragons are known to them.”

“As much as it would be unwise, I must learn the whereabouts of Reinhardt,” replied Fareeha. “If the villagers are such enemies of dragonkind, they will be the best source of information.”

“I don’t understand.”

Her lips curled into a mischievously proud smile. “This is not the first mission in which I have had to disguise myself amongst the humans. If any should ask you who I am, say that I am a bounty hunter or dragon slayer come for the head of the silver dragon. I am paying you a gold coin a week to allow me to stay with you. The villagers will be suspicious, and I have no doubt that you will see a few broken noses by the end of the week, but this is normal.”

“I’m glad to know all of this is _normal_ for you,” Angela muttered into her cup. “What else can I do to help you?”

Fareeha didn’t reply immediately. She set aside her empty mug and crossed the distance between herself and Angela. The blonde backed away, stopping when she bumped into her workbench. Her heart thrumming in her bosom, Angela fought to keep her breath steady as the exotic woman loomed over her. Warm hands fell onto her shoulders, and Fareeha smiled with the warmth of the spring sun. “Relax,” Fareeha told her. “And trust me. I am not here to start a war or lay waste to your village. That I leave for Talon.”

Angela didn’t breathe again until Fareeha released her and stepped away. She sighed as she watched the dragon rummage through her chest of belongings, withdrawing a sheathed knife with straps from the inside of one of the leg armor pieces. The knife was only that in name; it had to be as long as Angela’s forearm from pommel to tip. Fareeha strapped the knife to her right thigh, and Angela’s blush deepened when she was caught staring. The blonde quickly turned away, busying herself with getting her things.

She had pre-made several pouches of medicines and teas, each labeled with a small slip of paper with the name of the person who had made the order. Angela also packed her money purse, with only enough coins to make change if she needed and to purchase a few groceries. She would barter if she could, but with the villagers nervous now, she doubted her haggling powers would be of use. Angela double checked and triple checked her basket, nodding in approval at last. She donned her cloak and carried her basket, leading the way out.

“You do not lock your door?” Fareeha asked as Angela closed the door behind them.

“It doesn’t have an outside lock,” she replied. “And if it did, I would not trust the villagers not to lock me inside and try to burn the house down.”

“They think of you as a witch.”

It was a statement, not a question. “They are not entirely wrong.” Fareeha’s brows rose, the most surprised she allowed herself to look. Angela smiled at the snowy path to the village. “I came to the village when I was barely out of girlhood. I had no memory of my past, who my family was, or where I was from. All I knew was my name, and that I had magic. I possessed the ability to heal by magic and by medicine. It is limited, but it is there. And as I am the only healer in hundreds of miles, the village...tolerates me. They allow me to remain so long as I am useful. The moment I no longer am...the moment anything suspicious happens…” She trailed off, letting Fareeha come to her own conclusions.

Fareeha said nothing, again looking over Angela from head to toe and up again before facing forward, her eyes narrowing. Angela didn’t notice the look she was given or the clenching of the other woman’s jaw, her attention instead on the path ahead.

The village was bustling, morning having long past as the sun arched into the afternoon. Those villagers that were out on their own business gave Angela and Fareeha a wide berth, and the dragon caught many men watching them as they passed. Conversations halted until the women passed and resumed in swift whispers. Fareeha watched her companion’s reaction and was greeted by a small, content smile on the blonde’s face. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were rosy pink from the brisk winter day. Unlike Fareeha, who shivered in uncontrollable convulsions, Angela walked with steady steps and didn’t quiver.

Angela stopped at a little bakery first. Here, she exchanged a medicine pouch for two meat pies wrapped in greasy paper. One was given to Fareeha, and Angela waited until they were seated on a freezing cold stone bench next to an unmoving water fountain before she started eating her pie. The pastry was perfectly flaky and buttery, and it reminded Fareeha of the _phyllo_ meat pies of her homeland. The texture and flavor was different, but the feeling of being warmed from the inside was the same. Here, the meat was chunkier, there were different vegetables, and the filling was juicier with so much gravy that Fareeha had to lick her hands clean. Angela giggled quietly, offering her companion a handkerchief to wipe her hands.

Their next stop was at the home of a kindly old woman, who in exchange for Angela’s medicine gave her a small bag of candies. As they walked away from her cottage, Fareeha narrowed her gaze at the three men standing with their backs to the pair of women. One glanced over his shoulder to meet her glare. After that was a butcher, who eyed Fareeha with distrust as he accepted Angela’s pouch of medicine in exchange for a pound of beef. The draconian counted five men following them now as they moved on to the next cottage. Angela chose to be oblivious, her eyes on the path ahead of her feet. The fourth person Angela and Fareeha visited turned her down. The man looked past her at Fareeha and declared that Angela’s herbs were not wanted or needed. The growing mob followed them to the farm at the edge of the village. The farmer didn’t even answer his door, even though Angela could see him peering at them through the parted curtain. Turning away from the house, Angela and Fareeha stopped short, the gathering blocking their path.

“Please,” Angela addressed them quietly. “There’s no reason to be violent…”

“Angela…” Fareeha said her name in a harsh whisper. “They cannot be reasoned with.”

Looking over them, Angela could see what the draconian meant. There was something _wrong_ with them. Their eyes didn’t seem to _see_ the two women, and under the coats and collars of their shirts and jackets, a web of purple veins stretched up their necks toward their jaws. Their hands reached for the two women blindly, and their steps were stumbling. Angela shuddered. There was magic present. Her skin tingled at the touch of another’s magical power.

“I need to get back to the cabin,” she hissed to Fareeha. “I can help them.”

“These men are beyond your help,” was the muttered reply.

“Please. Trust me.”

Fareeha grunted in disapproval, but gave no further argument. Without warning, she swept Angela into her arms and leapt into the air, landing on the roof of the farmer’s house. The blonde woman clung to her companion as Fareeha leapt again, higher this time as she stretched out her wings and glided shakily towards the cover of the forest where Angela’s cabin waited.

In the breeze that followed, Angela heard the words laced with power. _“Follow them.”_

“Someone is controlling them,” Angela whispered, shivering at the touch of the enemy’s power.

“Widowmaker,” snarled Fareeha. “She has poisoned their minds against you. Against us.”

The pair landed in the forest and they ran hand-in-hand to Angela’s cabin. Fareeha withdrew her knife and guarded the door as Angela ran inside her cabin, dropping her basket on the floor. The mob crept closer as she came outside again, staff in hand. Fareeha’s eyes went wide at the sight of it. The dark mahogany sparkled in the sunlight with resin and runes inlaid into the wood in gold thread. At the head of the staff, twisted wooden branches held in a wooden cage a massive topaz in the shape of an egg. Angela stepped between Fareeha and the mob, shielding the dragon as she lowered her staff to point at the first villager that appeared from between the trees.

A yellow glow surrounded Angela, and a light bloomed from the heart of the stone on the staff. The light burst from the tip of the staff, flying across the distance, and struck the man she was aiming for. The man stopped and screamed as the yellow light penetrated him. Fareeha watched in dumb awe as the purple veins in his neck and around his eyes faded away. The light released him and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Angela pointed her staff at another of the mind-controlled mob and began the same spell. A spot of light on her shoulder appeared, more orange than yellow, and Fareeha tackled Angela to the ground just as the shot thundered through the forest. The bullet whizzed past, striking the air where Angela had been standing moments ago. Before either could regain their bearings, Fareeha was grabbed by two of the mind-controlled men and dragged off of Angela, who was also grabbed by two others as a third struggled to wrench her staff from her hands. She screamed as her grip loosened with every pull, weakened from the spell. The two struggling to hold onto Fareeha forced her down to a kneel with a painful kick to her broken, tender wings. They held her still as a red dot aligned itself between her eyes.

A body flew past Angela as she struggled to hold onto her staff, and a shot as sharp as thunder ripped through the forest. The bullet, which she didn’t see but _knew_ , struck a shield of light that erupted between Fareeha and Widowmaker. Laughter like a lion’s roar shook her senses, and so did the earth-trembling steps of Vilhelm, in his full heavy armor and carrying his massive battlehammer. With one swing, he disarmed Fareeha of her other captor and freed her, turning his attention to where Widowmaker may have been lurking in the trees as the other woman rescued Angela from the clutches of the other men.

“Now, Angela!” Vilhelm shouted over his shoulder, activating his shield once more to protect her from further sniper attempts.

Shakily pushing Fareeha from her side, Angela lifted the staff above her head as the yellow glow surrounded her so intensely, the draconian was forced to look away. “Helden sterben nicht!” Angela shouted, slamming the butt of the staff onto the ground. The glow around her spread like a wave, enveloping everyone near her in light. The remaining poisoned men screamed in pain as the light faded, the poison removed as they collapsed to the ground. The aura dissipated from Angela, who fell into Fareeha’s surprised arms.

The Egyptian held Angela protectively as Vilhelm approached, kneeling beside them.

The old man smiled. “She will be fine. Her magic takes a great deal out of her, which is why she needs an angel of her own to watch over her.” He stood, looking into the distance. Whether or not he could see Widowmaker was beyond Fareeha’s knowing. “She is unsafe here. The spider no doubt has a trap waiting within the cabin. Come. I will take you to a place of safety.”

“My armor…”

“We will return for it when the time is right. For now, leave it. You are under my protection now, Fareeha.”

Her gaze narrowed at his back, carrying Angela and the staff as carefully as she could. “How do you know my name?”

“Because many, many years ago, when you were still a little dracling, an Egyptian Lapis like yourself landed here and helped me settle in.”


	3. Chapter 3

The bed Angela woke in wasn’t hers. It was immediately too comfortable, and she snuggled deeper into the huggable mattress. She languidly stretched underneath the layers of fur and cotton that were heaped on top of her. She rolled from her stomach to her side and onto her back, running a hand from an itch to her neck to one on her leg. Her hair was out of its ponytail, and her corset and stockings were missing. She flung the covers off of her as she sat up swiftly, her head spinning from the movement. Someone had undressed her to her undergown. The cold of the room slapped her back down under the covers, where she laid shivering as she tried piecing together the events of...that afternoon? That day? How long had she been out?

She peeked out from under the covers. Her bed was canopied, the drapes closed to offer her further darkness, but a ray of light between the curtains prepared her for the light beyond. Throwing back the canopy curtains, she was embraced by the light of a new morning. 

The view of the countryside drew out a breath of awe, the rolling hills before and below like green ocean waves frozen in time and space. She could see the smoke of the village, the morning fires burning in dozens of hearths as mothers and women awoke and made breakfast for their husbands and families. A pang of loneliness struck her heart, lasting only a moment before the door to her chamber opened and Fareeha admitted herself in. 

The exotic woman wore a new set of clothes, the chiffon light and airy as she moved. Her abaya was bright sapphire blue, covering her from head to toe, down to her wrists and up to her chin. At her waist was a ribbon of gold, and a split in the chiffon revealed a hidden layer of gold underneath. A matching scarf was wrapped around her shoulders and neck, ready to cover her head at a moment’s notice.

Angela covered herself with a corner of the curtain of the canopy. “Where are we?”

“Eichenwald Castle, home of the silver dragon, Reinhardt,” Fareeha answered, standing with her hands on her hips in front of the blonde. The corner of the dragon’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Why so shy, zahra? I was the one who tucked you in.”

Her words only caused Angela’s blush to deepen in hue. “That doesn’t excuse removing a lady’s garments without her consent.”

“Would you have slept as comfortably if I had let you continue to wear that constrictive corset?”

The blonde didn’t answer. Fareeha shook her head, her smile fading. She crossed the room to a mahogany wardrobe, the ornate wood carved to match the bedposts. From the wardrobe, Fareeha withdrew fresh clothes; cotton undergown, a fresh blouse, a new cream-colored corset, gold-embroidered cotton floor-length tunic-dress, and wool stockings. The items were laid out, one at a time, on the bed next to Angela.

“Shall I draw you a bath as well, amira?” Fareeha asked, smirking once more.

“I am quite capable of bathing myself!”

“Very well. I will be outside your door. When you’re ready, there is breakfast, and we will discuss what happens next.”

Fareeha left at that, the door closing loudly behind her. Angela flinched at the sound. Had she offended Fareeha somehow? Was it a dragon custom to bathe their human rescuers? She shivered, the other woman’s words ringing ominously in her mind. With a sigh, she reluctantly parted the canopy curtains and got out of bed. She hugged herself, standing at the window and looking out over the valley. So much had happened so quickly over the course of a few days. Fareeha’s landing, Widowmaker’s poisonous attack, and now she was in the castle of a silver dragon. The silver dragon, Reinhardt. The thought sobered her of any thoughts of fantasy and whimsy of being in a castle for the first time. She undressed and washed herself quickly, donning the donated garments before stepping into her own boots. Those had apparently passed Fareeha’s inspection of acceptable clothing. As promised, Fareeha was waiting on the other side of the door.

The exotic draconian didn’t offer her arm to Angela or make any comment regarding the new clothes. Instead, she silently led Angela through the castle, expertly navigating the winding corridors as if the castle had been her second home. Angela did her best to memorize the path, but her gaze kept falling to her feet rather than the walls and their artistic landmarks of tapestries and vases. Her heart raced faster with every step, her feet grew heavier, her legs shakier. Try as she might, she couldn’t banish the visions of her being served to the silver dragon, of Fareeha taking her by the arm and flinging Angela into his gaping maw. She had heard stories of maidens being sacrificed to dragons in exchange for peace or wealth, and though Angela hardly thought herself as a maiden anymore, perhaps this dragon liked more mature maidens than the average. Her knees quaked as she began mentally preparing herself for the feeling of being chewed alive, of being swallowed whole, of being burnt to a crisp.

They stopped in front of a pair of double-doors, and if it weren’t for Angela’s terror, she would have admired it. The doors were different colors of wood, inlaid with gold, silver, mother of pearl, and other precious stones for further color and detail. The doors themselves were so tall, Angela had to bend backwards and still couldn’t make out the detailing near the high ceiling. The doors were so wide, several men could walk in at the same time and not bump into each other. They were doors made for a dragon, Angela thought, her throat going dry. The design on the doors was of a dragon and a man, the dragon’s wings wrapped protectively around the man to serve as his shield as he had a sword raised above him in proclamation. Beneath them as a scene of smaller dragons and humans, spread across a landscape of beauty. For every dragon, there was a human that matched them in some way, be it the coloring of their hair or the pattern of their clothes. If she hadn’t been so terrified, Angela would have been intrigued and curious about the meaning of the door and its artful message. Instead, the presence of Fareeha at her elbow kept the blonde from running.

Angela reached out to open the door with shaking hands and jumped visibly when they parted before her of their own volition. She didn’t recall making a sound, but the snicker from Fareeha alerted her that she had squeaked or screamed or something in between. Vilhelm laughed as well, the old man dressed in his usual tunics and breeches.

The blonde furrowed her brows at him. “Vilhelm? I…” She looked at Fareeha, who was smiling, and the old man. Her gaze fixated on his scarred eye, something she had made a point to never stare at. “I don’t understand. You? You are the dragon Reinhardt?”

She nearly collapsed under the weight of his arm as it fell around her shoulders. He guided her into a massive dining hall, his laughter echoing louder than cannonfire through the chamber. “Come! Eat! And I will explain what I can and answer what questions you have!”

The dining hall was massive and lonely, with rows upon rows of empty tables and benches. A table set for three sat at the far end of one row, and windows that reached from floor to the ceiling let in the bright, natural light of the north on one side of the room and south on the other. Reinhardt sat at the end of the long table, Fareeha to his right, and Angela across from them both. A spread of food waited for them.

Angela sat on her hands, watching as the two dragons filled their plates with massive sausage links, wedges and chunks of cheese, slices of ham, over-easy eggs, sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, and rolls still steaming from the oven. Fareeha glanced at her blonde companion, and when she noticed that Angela hadn’t taken anything yet, she claimed Angela’s plate and filled it herself, setting the plate gently back down where it had come from. Fareeha poured beer for Reinhardt, water for herself, and looked to Angela, gesturing at the four jugs waiting nearby. Angela meekly shrugged and was given water to go with her breakfast.

Reinhardt sighed in satisfaction, lowering his half-empty tankard with a THUMP that shook their section of the table. He grinned to Angela. “Now, which question should I answer first?”

“When were you planning on telling me?” Angela’s voice sounded more hurt than she had intended, and for a brief moment, Reinhardt looked as wounded as she felt. “You were kind to me when I first came to the village as a child so long ago, and you were one of the few that trusted me even when it was revealed that I…” She sighed, poking her food with a fork. “You knew all along that I had magic in me and accepted me. You knew of my power. Why did you feel you couldn’t trust me with knowing that you were the dragon our own village hated and feared?”

He was quiet, mulling over his answer long after he had swallowed his bite of food. “As kind and duty-bound as you were, you are still human, Angela,” Reinhardt answered. “I was worried that if you discovered I was draconian, you would either attempt to use me as some way of increasing your own magical power or you would betray me to protect yourself. But now…” His grin returned as he glanced between Angela and Fareeha. “I believe my fears were drastically misplaced. A dragon has literally fallen into your lap, and you have done everything in your power to assist her in her mission. It makes me think that maybe you can be an ally for our cause after all.”

“I’ve already explained to Fareeha that i have no desire to curry favor with --”

“Yes, yes, she told me,” he waved her words away, “but that is not what will happen.” He pointed a finger at Angela, the massive digit so close to her nose that she nearly went cross-eyed from it. “You will come with us to Gibraltar, and you will meet Athena. She will decide what to do with you next.”

“I can’t leave the village! They need me here! And if this Widowmaker continues to lurk about, someone will need to protect the people.”

Reinhardt again waved her off. “Widowmaker will follow us. The village is so remote that Talon has little tactical need for it, so it will be safe in your absence.” His smile faded slowly. “The spider is the reason you are to come with us, Angela. You are no longer safe here. Widowmaker has seen your power herself, and it is only a matter of time before you become a target of Talon.”

Angela nodded shakily, her eyes falling on her food. She had been hungry moments before, but now her stomach was full from a massive rock of doubt that gave her stomach a sinking feeling. She pushed a piece of sausage around on her plate with a fork, the fat on it beginning to congeal as it cooled. The blonde jumped as something touched her foot, caressing her boot lightly. Looking up, Angela met the gaze of Fareeha. The exotic woman gave her a reassuring smile. Reinhardt looked between the two, but made no comment as Angela resumed eating, the touch itself lingering as the other foot withdrew from her own.

After several beats of silence, Reinhardt asked a question to Fareeha. “How is your mother?”

“She’s well,” answered the Egyptian. “She’s on a mission in Nepal, but is likely to return to Gibraltar shortly before we do.”

“Is Gibraltar the home of all dragons?” Angela asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Reinhardt shook his head. “Dragons come from all over the world, and you will meet them in due time. Gibraltar is merely a base of operations for our resistance against Talon. It is where our most important meetings are held and where we receive our missions.”

“How do you know when a meeting is to be held or if you have a new mission?”

This time Fareeha answered. “There are messengers we send between each other. Letters, notes, things like these can be easily sent between outposts and dragons. For more sensitive messages or missions, one dragon of high ranking will go to another.”

“That’s what your mission was. To find Reinhardt and give him your message.”

Fareeha nodded. “I’ve known Reinhardt since I was a child, but I haven’t been to Eichenwald Castle in many years.” She smiled weakly at her plate. “I couldn’t remember its exact location. While I was circling the mountains looking for it, Widowmaker shot me down.” She shrugged. “Maybe she thought she could interrogate me, but you found me instead.” She blushed and couldn’t look Angela in the eye. “I distrusted you at first, fearing that you were a Talon spy or under the spider’s spell.”

“I saw the tracks before the villagers,” Reinhardt chimed in with the rest of the story. “I gave them a tale of a bear prowling the woods, having smelled the blood of the wounded dragon.” He winked with his good eye. “But I knew that Fareeha was in your care. I was reassured when I looked over your head and saw her being tended.” His smile fell. “But Widowmaker had also followed you. I saw her tracks around your cabin. It looked like she was trying to find a way to slip in, but I know you keep your windows locked during the winter. It was only a matter of time before she tried a different method.”

Angela felt suddenly cold, looking past him at the tall, uncovered windows. “Why do you feel so safe, then, with all these windows? At any moment, we could be within her scope.”

“She can’t get information from a corpse,” Fareeha answered, her voice a growl. “She may have been frustrated enough to want to give me a third eye, but she has her mission, just as I do. If she is watching us now, it is to read our lips and learn new information.”

“Then she’s learned we are traveling to Gibraltar,” countered Angela.

The Egyptian smirked at her drink. “Are we?”

Her words were hardly reassuring. “Am I bait or is my presence genuinely desired?”

“A little of both,” Reinhardt answered, interweaving his fingers together to rest his chin on his hands. His plate was empty. “Your healing magic would be beneficial to our cause, and if you are reluctant to use your magic, your knowledge of herbs and remedies alone would be worth having you with us.” He sighed heavily. “We cannot force you to join us. We cannot force you to come with us. Certainly, we can drag you kicking and screaming to the ends of the earth, but your heart and soul wouldn’t be in your work, and the quality of your craftsmanship would suffer for it. No, it would be best if you understood what it is we are asking of you, what dangers it entails, and let you make the decision on your own. If, in the end, you choose not to join us, then we can offer you a small amount of protection from Talon and a place to lay new roots.”

“How long do I have to decide?”

“We will fly out tonight, in the cover of darkness. It is eighteen hours from here to Gibraltar, so we will stop in Toulouse to rest, and then continue our journey. Once you have met Athena, once you have seen what we are fighting against and what we are fighting for, then you will be given the choice to stay or to hide once more.”

Angela bit her tongue, having to physically restrain herself from commenting on how little the cover of darkness had helped Fareeha. Instead, she nodded quietly, her attention falling onto her neglected meal. It was all too much too suddenly. Only two days ago, she had been minding her tiny greenhouse and making pouches of tea for the sickly. She had been drying herbs that prevented or enabled childbirth, she had been snaring rabbits for her food, she had been mending her own corset for the hundredth time. Now, she could eat like a princess and perhaps even dress as one. Her work would be appreciated, and the people would be grateful to her without whispering behind her back.

But at what cost?

Both Fareeha and Reinhardt made it plain that she was going to be in danger if she joined them. Yesterday’s brush with death was no fantasy either. She had almost been shot. Or worse. It would also be only the beginning. She was going to be expected to travel to foreign lands, to be present among strangers. She had wanted adventure, but this was too much. And yet…

She dared to look up a little at Fareeha, who met her stolen glance with one of her own. Caught, Angela resumed her meal quickly.

Reinhardt stood, taking his plate. “I have preparations to make for our journey.” He grinned. “Is it safe to leave you two alone? Without a chaperone?”

The two women answered together hurriedly, “No. No, it’s fine. No! No. Thank you. We’re fine. We’ll be alright. This is fine. This is okay.”

His roaring laughter followed him out of the dining hall. When the last echo faded away, the two sat in awkward silence. They ate only to keep from speaking.

Her plate clearing first, Angela felt compelled to speak first. “Is there anything else I should know about, before making my decision?”

Fareeha blinked at her slowly. “What do you mean?”

Angela shrugged with one shoulder, then the other. Her hands gesticulated, trying to find the words and only confusing her companion further. She blew out a brief mouth bubble in exasperation. “What will happen to me? Will I come back to Eichenwald Castle or the village? Will I stay in Gibraltar or Nepal, or wherever it is I will end up, or will I be forced to travel? And what is it I will be doing? Will I only be healing dragons, or will I be healing unicorns and manticores as well?”

“Excuse me, what is a unicorn?”

The question caught Angela by surprise, so much so that she almost burst into laughter. She held it in, not wishing to offend her foreign friend. “It is a creature of magic, as large as a horse but as delicate as a doe. Its color changes from sighting to sighting, as white as snow for one person, and as cream as seafoam for another. It is immortal, with eyes the color of the sky before nightfall with a single horn that glimmers like a pearl and hooves so gentle that it doesn’t break or bend the grass or brush it passes through.”

With every word, Fareeha’s eyes grew wider and wider. Angela smiled at the other woman’s child-like wonder. “Have you seen one?”

It was tempting to lie, but Angela shook her head. “I’ve not. I’ve heard stories of unicorns in our forest, but I’ve never seen one for myself. One little old woman told me once, just before she died, that a unicorn had rested its head upon her lap when she was a maiden. But other than that…” She shook her head.

“I hope that you do, someday.” Fareeha turned her eyes to the forest outside the window behind Angela, and the blonde turned to watch the clouds roll over the mountains and treetops. “I cannot answer your questions, because I don’t know the answers for myself. We have few healers, and our battles and missions are so widespread, it would be unfair to expect you to attend all of them or to travel as we do. I suppose it all depends on what Talon does, and what must be done to counter their spread of terror. With our numbers dwindling…” Fareeha shook her head, blushing for a moment at a passing thought. “I do not know, Angela, what will happen to you. All I can assure you is that we will do our best to protect you in the meantime.”

“If it were up to you, what would you have me do?”

Fareeha’s eyebrows shot up, exposing more whites of her eyes than usual. A blush painted her cheeks, and she took a moment to compose herself. “If it were up to me,” the Egyptian finally answered, guiltily unable to look Angela in the eye, “I would hide you away, somewhere I knew you would be safe and Talon wouldn’t find you. And yet, I would want you beside me, even on the battlefield, because I know that you are reliable in a fight. You would not faint at the first sign of conflict, nor at the sight of blood.”

The blonde laughed weakly, unsure of how to accept the subtle compliment. She wondered if Fareeha had known about the pistol hidden in her basket all along. “You sound like someone in love.”

“Perhaps,” was the quietly muttered answer.

Now it was Angela’s turn to flush with embarrassment. She stood, stumbling a bit on the bench. “I need some fresh air.”

Fareeha said nothing, watching silently as Angela left the dining hall and became lost in the hallways of the castle. After walking for what felt like miles, Angela stopped and leaned against a cool wall to catch her breath. Were all of her secrets so easily exposed? Her care for the wounded dragon had exposed her magic, though that had been of her own choice, but had she revealed herself to be a lover of women as well? When? How had it been so easy for Fareeha to guess her weakness? Had she been too gentle with the dragon’s wounds? Or had she let something slip, a phrase or comment that had outed herself?

Or perhaps Fareeha had been the one exposed.

Angela shook her head, covering her face with her hands. It would be too hopeful to imagine such a thing, that the dragon felt some amount of desire for her. Still, the thought caused her heart to rush and her blood to warm. She hugged herself, imagined the calloused hands on her arms, on her sides, and the warmth lingered. Angela tore herself from where she had been leaning, forcing herself to walk further away. It wasn’t too hopeful; it was impossible. Fareeha felt, if anything, gratitude for having her life saved and nothing more. Angela was a means to an end, a tool to be used for the draconian cause. Fareeha was beyond her reach.

She found the familiar-looking door to her room and flung it open. Angela flopped onto the bed and ran her hands over the luxurious furs. She dug her fingers in, kneading the material as she closed her eyes. Her hands slowly fell still, tired from giving the blankets a massage. Her mind mulled over the conundrum. Guilt gripped her at the thought of leaving the village, and yet it was what she wanted. Angela lifted her chin, rested it on the back of her hand. Her eyes opened and fell onto her staff, leaning against the wardrobe. Here was a people who wanted her, needed her. But yet she was hesitant. They needed her power, not her as a person. If another in her village had found Fareeha and healed her, Angela’s presence would have gone unnoticed.

The blonde pushed herself up and got out of bed. She lifted her staff, held it in both hands, and felt the magic flow from the staff up her arms and into her body. Her skin tingled, as if a tiny breeze kissed the back of her neck. The tingle traveled to her forehead, to her toes, fluttered in her stomach, and caressed the tips of her breasts. The feeling made her close her eyes and smile. She held the staff closer, touched the warm stone to her cheek. Opening her eyes once more, her gaze fell over the scenic view and onto her distant village. Nothing seemed amiss, even with so much of the day gone. Perhaps the village didn’t need her after all.

With a sigh, she left her room in search of Fareeha. The tap of the butt of her staff striking the stone floor seemed to echo in the quiet halls. Staff in hand, she held her head high and looked ahead. She saw Fareeha coming toward her and met the exotic woman’s gaze, a smile blooming on Angela’s face as they drew nearer to one another. Fareeha rose a quizzical eyebrow at Angela, letting her curious expression ask for her.

“I wanted to see how your wings were healing,” Angela stated. “I noticed you had them hidden during breakfast, and I wanted to make sure they healed properly before we fly out to Gibraltar.”

“We?” Fareeha’s lips began to curl into a smile, but she cleared her throat, hiding the gesture behind a fist. It gave her the moment she needed to compose herself, to curb her hope into casual business. “I am to assume then that you have decided to join our cause.”

Angela nodded, leaning on her staff. “That would be correct. I know that it is so sudden to decide, but…” She shook her head and smiled. “I go where the work takes me.”

Again, Fareeha visibly fought her excitement. “Very good. I’ll inform Reinhardt right away.”

As the Egyptian turned to leave, Angela stopped her. “Wait!” Angela exclaimed, grabbing Fareeha by the arm. Fareeha’s amber eyes were wide in surprise, but she didn’t try to pull away from Angela or weaken the other woman’s grip. She tilted her head slightly at the blonde. “Your wings,” repeated Angela. “I need to check your wings first.”

“Ah, of course.”

The blonde let go, and she squeaked in surprise as Fareeha reached for the buttons that ran down the back of her abaya. 

“Not here!” Angela exclaimed, her face flushed from embarrassment. She looked around quickly, then grabbed Fareeha by the hand. The Egyptian didn’t protest as she was led through the castle back to Angela’s room. Once inside, Angela sighed to herself. “Alright, now you may undress.”

“I wasn’t going to undress completely,” Fareeha explained with a half-smile. She worked on the buttons on the back of her dress with surprising flexibility, causing Angela’s blush to deepen in hue. After several buttons were unclasped, the dragon’s wings unfurled seemingly from thin air. The blonde could only watch in silent awe as their length filled the room. Angela gripped her staff a little tighter.

The pair stood there silently, watching one another and waiting for the other to move or speak. Fareeha stretched, her wings reaching for the corners of the room. Angela shrunk back into her staff, her arms and shoulders curling around it protectively; whether she was protecting her staff or her staff was protecting her couldn’t be determined. She braced herself as the dragon flapped her wings, sending gusts of wind around Angela and disturbing the room. Finally Fareeha stood still once more, and Angela worked up the nerve to approach her.

Angela stood close to one wing, and then the other, inspecting both as thoroughly as she could. Her brows furrowed as she looked for the scar tissue of the old wounds. The smell of curry and incense filled her lungs, and her vision began to blur. Shaking her head, Angela forced herself to focus. Tentatively, she reached out to touch one of the wings where she remembered there being a hole.

Fareeha flinched under Angela’s touch, but didn’t pull her wing away. Instead, she clenched a fist and said between her teeth, “Healed, from your burst of magic that broke Widowmaker’s spell. The membrane is sensitive though, so…”

The blonde nodded, pulling her hand away and stepping back. Her gaze was on the floor. “I’m sorry for having made you suffer. I didn’t want you to think ill of me because of my magic.”

A massive wing curled around Angela, pulling her closer to Fareeha. The exotic woman’s scent flooded her once more, and the space around them became warmer. They were so close that all Angela had to do was reach out to the other woman, but both maintained a chaste distance. How long that distance would remain was another matter, as Fareeha’s confident smirk returned. “You don’t need to apologize. You haven’t made me suffer or caused me to think ill of you.”

“B-but your wounds…” Angela stammered, Fareeha’s curling wings drawing her closer until she could feel the heat of the other woman’s body radiating onto her. Her grip on her staff was slipping. “Surely you must have been in some pain…”

Fareeha placed her hands gently on Angela’s hips, pulling her closer still. Angela let go of the staff with one hand to wrap her arm around Fareeha’s shoulders, pressing herself into the other woman. Unable to catch her breath, she breathed through parted lips. Fareeha’s gaze moved between Angela’s lips and her sky-blue eyes. “No pain,” Fareeha whispered. “Only pleasure.”

Angela could say no more, the ability to speak stripped from her as Fareeha’s lips pressed against her own. The kiss remained chaste only for a moment before the Egyptian’s lips parted to demand more. Angela bit her lower lip before tongues met and danced in the warmth of their joined mouths. Even when the kiss ended, neither released one another from their grips. Instead, Fareeha pressed her forehead to the blonde’s as they both took the moment to catch their breath. Her hands gripped and released Angela’s hips, as if having to restrain herself from further mischief.

“I want more,” Angela murmured, kissing Fareeha again.

This time they fought each other for control of the kiss. Fareeha held her companion’s hips against her own. Her wings unfurled and she pushed Angela into the closest wall, beside the door to the bedroom. Angela gasped in surprise, but didn’t fight her. The Egyptian’s hands roamed up Angela’s sides, her thumbs stroking the underside of Angela’s breasts through the layers of cloth.

“We really shouldn’t,” Fareeha mumbled breathlessly, turning her head to kiss and nip the length of Angela’s neck. “I must send someone to your cottage to gather your things.”

The blonde bit back a moan as Fareeha’s teeth bit a sensitive spot on her neck, sending further shudders through her body. “I only need my staff and my pistol.”

“I’ll get you a new gun.”

Angela squeaked in surprise as Fareeha lifted her by the waist and tossed the blonde onto the nearby bed. The dragon’s wings curling back into her back, Fareeha laid next to where the blonde fell. Leaning over her, Fareeha passionately kissed Angela with such ferocity, the human’s back arched against the dragon for more. Hands flailed, desperately trying to find a place to be. Caressing, stroking, struggling with buttons and laces. Angela gasped, for air or out of surprise, as she felt Fareeha’s hand slip under the layers of gowns to touch her leg. Bracing her under her knee, Fareeha pulled Angela on top of her so that she straddled the dragon’s hips with her gowns scandalously riding up to expose her legs up to her thighs.

Fareeha laid back and looked over Angela, the blonde sitting up to admire the Egyptian below her. A dark hand reached up and cupped Angela’s cheek, caressing her lips with a thumb. Her hand slid down Angela’s neck, slipping under the shoulder of her gown to touch the soft flesh beneath. Blushing, the blonde rested her own hand on Fareeha’s and guided it lower onto the round of her breast. Fareeha’s fingers curled around the hem of Angela’s neckline, ready to tear the cloth asunder as she felt Angela draw in a breath of anticipation.

The door to the bedroom slammed open.

Reinhardt stopped short, seeing the two women and the position they were in. His surprise lasted only a moment.

“Gear up,” he commanded them. “We’ve got trouble.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Angela next saw Fareeha, the Egyptian was in her heavy blue armor. The old man was in his armor as well, his helmet tucked under one arm as he held a pair of binoculars to his eyes. A warhammer as tall as Angela, and almost as wide, leaned on the balcony’s bannister beside him. Angela hugged her staff to her chest, tears welling in her eyes. Fingers of smoke reached for the sky and a stream of figures marched from the village to the castle. Behind them was a lone woman.

_ Widowmaker. _

Reinhardt passed the binoculars to Angela. Through them, she got her first look at the spider herself. Perhaps the knowledge of her deadliness was what made Widowmaker all the more beautiful. Her skin was an inhuman hue of purplish-blue, as if all the warmth had drained out of her to leave behind a frozen shell. Her long black hair was pulled back into a high, tight ponytail that whipped in the wind. Her clothes shimmered in the twilight in shades of purple; the amethyst catsuit was tight against her like a second skin. Cradled in Widowmaker’s arms was a sniper rifle. 

Angela handed the binoculars back to Reinhardt. “She’s poisoned the whole village,” she muttered, her voice failing her.

Fareeha rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. “There is nothing you could have done. If you had remained behind, you would have been poisoned as well, or worse.”

The blonde shivered, her mind taking her to dark places involving webs, whips, and the touch of ice-cold fingers against warm flesh. She shook the thought from her mind. “What do we do? They’ll overtake the castle any minute now. We can’t wait for nightfall.”

“We wait for them to attack the castle,” Reinhardt answered. “It will take time for them to get through the gateway. While they are distracted, we’ll leave. The servants have already evacuated. We’ll fly low, close to the mountainside on the opposite slopes. With any luck, we’ll go unnoticed. When the mountain is far behind us, we’ll take to the sky for Gibraltar. If we fly nonstop, we’ll reach Watchpoint in fifteen hours.”

The sapphire dragon gave her superior a look of concern. “Sir, are you sure a non-stop flight will be safe? Perhaps if we-”

She stopped short at a look from Reinhardt. His brows furrowed at her, his eyes as cold as the metal shell around him. Fareeha stood a little taller and nodded, saying nothing more.

Angela gripped her staff tighter. “What about me?”

His gaze softened as he turned his attention to the blonde. “I am trusting Fareeha to carry you through the journey.” His eyes twinkled with mischievous scheming as he smiled at her. “It will give you two a chance to bond further and instill deeper levels of trust.” His attention shifted to Fareeha. “She is in your care.”

The Egyptian saluted him. “Yes sir.” She remained saluting until he walked away, relaxing her stance at his back. “Come. We need to prepare you for the flight.”

Fareeha led her away from the balcony and through the castle. The last of the servants waited at a gateway that led out into the mountains. The gate itself was open and snow drifted onto the stone tiles. Trunks of supplies were being loaded onto the last of the horses and donkeys, the tail-end of a caravan that disappeared in the curves of mountainside trails. Only one cart remained, and the contents of the last open trunk were exposed to the weather as Fareeha and Angela approached.

“Furs!” Angela exclaimed, unable to contain her delight. She reached in and ran her fingers through the luxurious mink, as white as snow and as soft as clouds.

Fareeha smiled at her, grabbing the thick cloak and wrapping it around Angela’s shoulders. Straps within the lining wrapped around Angela’s arms, holding the robe in place. Wolf-fang buttons clasped the cloak closed. Another cloak was wrapped around Angela, weighing her down further. It was either Fareeha’s nearness or the heavy furs that made the blonde warm, and she couldn’t decide which.

“Are two really needed? I thought Spain was warm,” she commented to fill the quiet.

“Spain is warm, even in spring. But these are not for Spain. When we fly, we reach altitudes that are so cold, it is always winter. It will be hard for you to breathe, and your natural warmth will drain away. We will be also travelling at dangerous speeds. One hundred thirty kilometers per hour. Amature dragon riders have died in lesser conditions.” She shook her head. “I don’t like it, but we have no choice.” Fareeha offered her a small smile. “And I have faith that you are strong enough to survive. The more we travel together, the easier it will become.” 

A pair of goggles were put on over Angela’s face, Fareeha untucking Angela’s long bangs from the straps. Fluffy fur earmuffs were placed over Angela’s ears and the hoods of the cloaks lifted to cover her head. Fareeha took a step back to look over her work so far, giving Angela a nod of approval. Leather harnesses wove around Angela’s torso, hugging the cloaks tighter to her. Her staff clipped into the harness against her back. Another harness went around her hips and legs, but dangled loosely like decorative ribbons. Fareeha looked over her work once more and sighed, obviously unhappy but unable to do more. 

“Do you trust me, Angela?”

“With my life,” she replied without hesitation.

The Egyptian said no more, stepping away from Angela to give herself space. The last of the servants loaded the empty trunk onto the back of a cart and led away the last donkey as Fareeha transformed into a dragon. Her sapphire armor became scales that covered the length of her body. Her hands and feet became claws that gleamed with onyx talons, a long tail sprouted, and her massive wings unfurled.

Reinhardt came up behind Angela and lifted her effortlessly by her waist, setting her onto Fareeha’s back, just behind her wings with Angela’s legs straddling Fareeha’s spine. The old man wasted no time, wrapping the straps of the leg harness around Fareeha’s shoulders and chest. He checked the tightness and muttered questions to Fareeha, who answered just as quietly. Angela didn’t hear. She clung with her thighs to the creature beneath her. Reinhardt made some final adjustments to the harnesses and walked away.

Without warning, Fareeha’s gigantic wings beat against the air and lifted her from the ground. Angela clung tighter, falling forward to try to grasp her with arms restricted by the tightness of the cloaks and harnesses. The ground shrunk beneath them with every flap of the dragon’s wings. Reinhardt took dragon form. Angela shuddered at the sight of him. She had never seen him this close before, and his size eclipsed Fareeha’s. The silver dragon flew ahead, and Fareeha followed. The rush of the wind past her was deafening, even with the earmuffs, and knocked her hoods back.

True to his word, Reinhardt flew relatively low to the ground. They were not so low that they frightened the animals of the caravan below, but Angela could still feel the wisps of snow being disturbed as they flew by. They soared toward the darkening sky and rising moon, weaving between mountain peaks, diving into valleys, and rising with the slopes. As Angela got more used to the idea of flying, she relaxed her grip on Fareeha’s back with her thighs, trusting the harnesses holding her in place. Her hands resting on Fareeha’s shoulders, she could feel the muscles beneath her move with every beat of the wings before her.

The sky grew darker as night fell. Reinhardt banked southward and rose in altitude and Fareeha followed. The ground below them grew more distant until it became a sea of darkness, speckled by the collective lights of faraway villages, towns, and cities. Looking down, they looked like stars to Angela. Looking up, the sky was illuminated with thousands upon thousands of true stars. All she had to do was reach up and touch them, and the sky would ripple under her fingers like water. Wiggling a bit, she freed her arms to do just that. Reaching up, Angela touched nothing. She sighed to herself, smiling despite the disappointment. Looking back, she saw only the mountains. Any one of those lights could have been her village. Thousands of feet above the world, though, she didn’t feel regret or guilt at her departure.

Opening her arms to embrace the sky, Angela felt free.

She wept, her tears burning her face until she had to lift the goggles just enough to wipe away her joy. A part of her, buried deep in her core, had hungered for this all of her life. To be able to soar, to taste the clouds and drink the sun as if she were one with the sky, she had dreamt of this. And she wept, knowing she could never do it alone. She would always need someone else’s wings, and she would never have her own.

The full moon drew higher above them, lighting the way. Reinhardt never flew too far ahead, the sparkle of his silver scales a glittering beacon. If the clouds grew too thick, he would fall back until he could tap Fareeha with the tip of his tail and guide her under or above the clouds so that visibility was never lost for long. The old dragon knew where he was going, and Angela wondered how many times he’d had to make this journey. They flew past mountains and plains, and to Angela’s left, she could see the shimmering reflection of the sea. Below were scattered pools of light, cities that she didn’t know the name of or had heard of in merchants’ stories at the village.

The exhilaration of flight wound down, taking her energy away. Her layers of furs wrapped tight around her made her warm and cozy, save for the cool wind on her face. She shifted her position, laying down with her head between Fareeha’s shoulders. The dragon’s scales were warm, like sun-bathed rocks, and though they were hard to the touch, the soft flesh underneath gave under the weight of Angela’s cheek. She could feel every rippling muscle from every movement Fareeha made, and closing her eyes, she nodded off to the rhythm of the dragon’s beating wings.


	5. Chapter 5

Angela dreamt of flying. She dreamt she had golden wings of her own, and Fareeha had sapphire wings. They flew together through the sky, hand-in-hand, and made love under a blanket of clouds. And then her wings were taken away, and she dreamt of falling. She dreamt of falling, of reaching out to Fareeha, but the sapphire dragon wasn’t reaching back, wasn’t there to catch her. The Earth bloomed beneath her like a terrible brown flower, and purple tendrils reached to drag her further down. Her mouth was open, her throat burned, but her scream was silent.

She woke with a jolt, her body spasming as she came out of sleep too harshly, too quickly. Angela gasped for breath, trying to swallow with a dry throat. The cold morning wind slapped her in the face, and her stomach sank from the nausea of hunger. The smell of the salt sea brought her to her senses and kept her from vomiting. Looking down, she saw they were circling an outcropping of rocks at the tip of Spain.

Gibraltar.

The Spanish cliffs were carved by hand into a ghetto that housed the dragons’ lair. Rather than one large building, like Eichenwald Castle, Watchpoint was a series of smaller buildings carved into the cliff-side, overlooking the sea like a secret village. The Rock of Gibraltar itself could be seen further inland, the base of operations carved into the tip of the landmass. A lighthouse decorated a distant rock, and the people wandered about, putting out the smattering of torches and braziers as dawn’s golden light illuminated the landing zone.

Despite the early hour, the lair was crawling with activity. As the dragons spiraled slowly to descend, Angela could see many little figures at work, bustling here and there. Save for one spot that grew into the shape of a person, standing at the landing platform of flat stone. She could make out the hood of a billowing cloak and a scarf of white.

Reinhardt landed first, transforming back into human form just as his feet touched the ground. As Fareeha landed behind him, he strode to the cloaked figure, embracing them. He returned his attention to Fareeha and went to Angela’s side, working the straps of the harness to free her. The cloaked figure followed, and in the light, Angela could see it was an elderly woman. The white scarf she had seen from the sky was actually a long braid of snow white hair, contrasting starkly against her sun-kissed skin. Like Fareeha, her face was decorated with a wadjet tattoo under one eye; the other was covered by an eye-patch. There was an air of familiarity to the old woman’s smile, as if Angela had known her from a dream long ago. She already knew if she hugged the old woman, she would smell of spiced chai tea and gunpowder.

The old woman’s laughter, ringing out like bells, echoed through the early morning air as Angela wobbled toward her. Her legs were stiff from the flight, and everything below her waist was sore. The old woman opened her arms and embraced Angela, filling her lungs with that scent she expected. Her heart ached with a sudden loneliness that she almost cried.

“Oh Angela, dear. It’s so good to see that you grew up so well.” The old woman released her, holding her at arm’s length to look over. “So beautiful! Yes, you will catch many an eye here.”

“Ana,” Reinhardt said the woman’s name sternly.

She looked to him, and he silently shook his head.

Angela looked between the two of them. “What is happening?”

Ana’s single eye turned to Angela, looking at a space in the center of her forehead. “Ah. I see now.” Her mirth vanished from her face, her wise beauty solidifying into a stone mask of seriousness. “We will talk more later.” Her smile returned as she stepped past Angela to Fareeha, who had returned to her human form and untangled herself from the harnesses binding her. “You’ve returned, Fareeha!”

“Mother,” Fareeha replied, smiling weakly as she embraced the old woman. “You look well.”

“Always, just to see my little girl again.” Ana let go reluctantly. “You need your rest. You’ll have to forgive having to sleep in the common area. We’ve been having...difficulties.”

“Talon?” Angela asked.

The old woman nodded, leading them through the compound. “There have been enemy movements that are troubling. To increase our dwindling numbers, we have been seeking out ancient dragon mating grounds for hidden clutches of dormant eggs. We’ve had some success, but so has Talon.”

A chill rippled down Angela’s spine at Ana’s words. She knew without asking what Talon was doing with the dragon eggs, and the brutal images of gore that flashed in her mind only churned her stomach more. Her hunger didn’t help, and the nausea swept over her in a crippling wave. She fell to her knees, and somewhere in the distance, she heard Fareeha say her name, heard Reinhardt’s voice explaining her weakness, and Ana’s purr of reassurance.

The smell of ginger flooded Angela’s senses. “In your nose, out your mouth,” Ana told her, and Angela obeyed. She breathed in the smell of ginger and little else, sighing it out of her mouth. With every breath, the nausea faded and she was able to focus. The old woman held a small bottle under her nose, kneeling close to her. After several breaths, Angela nodded and the bottle was capped with a cork stopper and hidden within the cloak. Ana helped the young woman to her feet, speaking to Reinhardt. “You two go get your rest. I’ll see that our guest is fed.”

Angela’s eyes turned to Fareeha, who gave the blonde a smile and nod before being led away.

Ana patted Angela’s back. “You will see her again soon, don’t you fret. You two…” She stopped herself, hesitating as she rethought her words. “You’ll have to forgive our erratic way of life. We are basic creatures, eating when we need and sleeping when we must, and always on the move. I’m sure you will adapt.”

“I can only hope that I can be useful to the dragon cause,” Angela replied. “As a human, though, I’m not sure what more I can do, save for healing your sick and wounded.”

“You will, in time. And, depending on other circumstances, you can be more than just a healer to our people.”

They stopped in a small supply building, and the heavy cloaks and furs were removed from Angela’s shoulders. She carried her staff as she continued to follow Ana. “How do you mean?” Angela asked as they left the supply building and made their way to a larger, centralized building at the heart of the base.

Ana hesitated once more, choosing her words carefully. “There are tests to be done. If you have the right blood, then it is possible that you could become a dragon’s mate.”

The blonde attempted to imagine the process, causing an uncomfortable blush to bloom on her cheeks. She had felt something when she had been pressed up against Fareeha lifetimes ago, and now she wondered if it had been more than just her imagination. Seeing her expression, Ana laughed. “It is not as bad as you imagine, but that is a discussion for another time. Eat first, and then rest. When the time is right, you will appear before Athena, and then we will see what we can see.”

A guard opened the door to the mess hall. Angela’s senses became immediately overwhelmed with a flood of sights and smells and noise. The room was similar to the dining hall of Eichenwald Castle, but here there were people. Where the castle had been bare and empty, Watchpoint was filled to the brim. Servants came and went like bees, buzzing about taking plates and delivering others, refilling cups and clearing spaces. They were the only ones that Angela could discern the status of; everyone else eating mingled in such a way that just by looking, she couldn’t outwardly see who was a dragon, who was a guard, who was a human, or what any of their rankings were compared to each other. Windows were carved out of the stone walls, letting in streams of multicolored light from the decorative stained glass. Further lighting was provided by sconces on the walls and hanging lights on iron chandeliers. A line wrapped around the room for a buffet, but Ana led Angela by the arm to a table to sit.

A servant was instantly at the old woman’s side. They exchanged words in Spanish, the language flowing from Ana in a musical beat. The servant left with a bow and returned several minutes later with a tray of drinks; a miniature tea-pot and a stone cup were set in front of Ana, and a goblet and pitcher of water was set before Angela. Ana waited until the servant left before pouring herself a cup of steaming green tea while Angela poured herself some water with a shaking hand.

The cool water was a refreshing relief as it trickled down Angela’s throat, and she gasped for breath after gulping down the first cupful without pause. Her hand was steadier when she poured herself a second cup, and she took her time with it.

“How was the flight from Germany?” Ana finally asked to fill the void of silence between them.

“It was nice,” Angela answered sheepishly. She smiled into her cup, shaking her head. “It was exhilarating. Amazing and terrifying in the same breath. It filled me with so much laughter and mirth, but it made me despair as well.”

“Because you can never fly on your own.”

Angela nodded.

A gloved hand patted Angela’s. “Don’t you fret, child. You’ll earn your wings soon enough.”

Before Angela could ask what her elder meant, the food arrived, balanced on one large tray in the hands of one petite servant. Dish after dish was laid out between Ana and Angela, and the blonde’s stomach roared in delight. The center of the meal was a massively round yet shallow dish of yellow rice and a variety of seafood that radiated with exotic spices and was decorated by a ring of lemon wedges. A steaming loaf of bread on a wooden plate was set next to another plate of yellow-green liquid swimming with pieces of garlic and blobs of strange yellow-orange paste. Lastly was a giant bowl of grilled vegetables that smelled of familiar herbs.

Ana pointed out the dishes one at a time. “Seafood paella,” she said, pointing to the rice dish. “Seasoned olive oil with urchin roe,” was the dish of liquid and seasoning. She pointed to the vegetable dish. “Ratatouille.” The old woman took the serving spoons from the servant and heaped piles of food onto the plate, then handed the plate to Angela. She served herself and took off her gloves, which went daintily into her lap. Her delicate fingers worked the shells off the shrimp, hissing in pain as the hot sauce burned her fingers.

Angela carefully ate the rice with a spoon, waiting until it was cool enough to not burn the inside of her mouth. She wanted to ask a thousand questions, but was grateful for the silence of eating. Somehow she knew that even if she asked her thousand questions, she would only get a handful of answers. And of those questions, how many did she truly want the answers to? She wanted to ask about how dragons could mate with humans, but would knowing the answer frighten her away from Fareeha’s arms? She wanted to know why Ana clipped her words and watched them so carefully around Angela, but was the truth as innocent as protecting Angela from Talon? Most of all, she wanted to know if she would ever be able to fly with Fareeha again. She could feel her heart cracking already at the thought of the answer.

Instead, the two ate silently, and the thousand questions flew away like a thousand freed birds. Angela ate slowly, unsure how well her stomach would adapt to the new cuisine. Her favorite was the ratatouille. The hearty vegetables reminded her of a homely stew she would make in the fall, but as much as she thought of her cabin near the village, she didn’t feel homesick. She hadn’t belonged in the village, but _here_ ... _This_ felt like home. The wonders of new places, the warmth of new faces, and tastes of new foods were too much to make her homesick. Instead, she hungered for more.

Angela squeaked as the bench beneath her lifted from the ground as Reinhardt sat down next to her. He laughed at her surprise, the sound echoing through the cavernous chamber. Ana summoned a plate from the aether and filled it for him. “How are you liking your new home?” He asked Angela as he tore a chunk of bread from the loaf.

“It’s loud,” she answered with a weak laugh. “But otherwise nice. I’ve never been this close to the sea before.”

“Later you can go down to the beach and dip your toes in,” Reinhardt promised.

Her eyes grew in suspense. “Truly? I can?”

“Now, now,” Ana chided the giant man. “We do not know what Athena plans for her. Her stay at Gibraltar may not be for very long.”

“Baaach. If she has a mission, it can wait long enough for her to get her feet wet.” Reinhardt leaned in close to Angela, whispering in a stage-aside whisper, “If she gets to being too strict on you, just ask her about Budapest.”

Ana attempted to hide her crimson cheeks behind her cup of tea, but Angela could see the corners of her lips curling into an undeniable smile. “Don’t encourage her,” the old woman muttered into her cup.

Angela smiled to herself, looking away from the gazes the two elders gave each other. She set her utensils on her empty plate and scooted it aside. “If it isn’t any trouble,” she requested meekly, “would it be alright if I went to the beach myself? I’m not tired enough to sleep just yet.”

Her two elders looked to one another. Ana rose a quizzical brow. Reinhardt shrugged. The old woman sighed and nodded. “Go ahead,” Ana relinquinted. “Security knows you’re here. So long as you don’t cause trouble, you’ll be in no danger. The path to the beach is marked.”

“Thank you.” Angela gave them a polite curtsy before seeing herself out.

Once outside, she stopped to take in a deep breath. She could smell the sea and the food from the dining hall, she could smell perfumes from passing ladies and colognes of the guards standing on post, she could smell the gunpowder of hidden weapon caches and the oil of freshly polished swords. Angela closed her eyes, listening to the world around her and felt it turn under her feet. Opening her eyes again, she saw the sign pointing to a railing and a path hidden in shadows. The sign led her to a set of stairs carved into the cliff-side, guarded by a railing, that led her down to the beach. She forced herself to watch her step as she descended, not wanting to slip and bounce her way down. At the foot of the stairwell, she finally lifted her chin.

And there was the ocean.

She had never seen more vibrant shades of blue in the mountains of Germany. Her borrowed refineries felt suddenly vapid and dull in contrast to the gemstone ombre of the blue-green waters and white-blue skies. The roar of the waves was deafening, and she feared dipping her toes in, that the sea would swallow her whole in one gulp. Still, she found herself walking toward the endless horizon and the gentle caress of water upon sand and stones. She stopped to sit down on the sand, running her fingers through the warmth and digging her hands in to feel the coolness deeper below. She brushed the sand from her hands and untied the laces of her boots, struggling to remove them and the layers of stockings and socks. Angela stood and lifted the hem of her skirts as if she were a princess, taking those last cautious steps forward to touch her feet to the water.

The speed and power of the waves caught her by surprise. She thought she was standing on the edge of the incoming waves, when instead she was knee-deep in water in the blink of an eye. She nearly lost her footing as the waves retreated, pulling sand and stability out from under her, but a strong grip on her arm kept her from falling. Angela stared in awe at her savior. She hadn’t realized that someone else was on the beach with her, but the reason for her awe was his armor.

Fareeha’s armor was bulky and awkward. Reinhardt’s was massive and intimidating. This man seemed to be made from the metal and mesh that hugged his body tightly. His armor was sleek and form-fitting, his shapely body both covered and exposed. Looking at him, and looking over his lithe yet solid figure, Angela couldn’t see where armor ended and man began. His face was masked, and under the intense gaze of his thin green visor, she wasn’t afraid. She couldn’t see his eyes, couldn’t see what he was looking at, and yet she knew he wasn’t an enemy.

He helped her to her feet, held her steady as wave after wave crashed against them and pulled away once more. His hand wrapped around hers as he led her away from the water’s edge, towards her discarded things. Her legs felt like limp noodles, barely able to keep her upright as the texture of the sand went from flat stiffness to sinking mounds that absorbed energy from her with every step. She couldn’t help feeling that they had done this before, that he had led her by the hand out of danger in some past dream. In her mind, the roar of the ocean waves became the thrumming rumble of rolling flames and echoing thunder. When they reached her forgotten staff and boots, they stopped, but she wasn’t ready to let go.

“I know you,” she said at last. “It’s impossible, but I know you. You...saved my life once.”

He chuckled lowly, his voice made tinny by the mask blocking his lips. “That was long ago, Angela. For a moment, I thought that you had forgotten.”

“Because she had,” Ana stepped in, joining them.


	6. Chapter 6

Angela felt like a small child, sitting in front of Reinhardt and Ana. They were in Ana’s private quarters, in a little sitting room of an apartment deep in the stone cliffs; the hand-carved chamber was barely big enough for the three of them. They sat on the floor on two woven rugs of intricate design and color, a short table between them. The chamber was illuminated by an assortment of candles in hanging stained-glass lanterns and tucked into little nooks in the walls. Her staff lay in front of her at her knees, and a cup of tea sat cold in her hands.

“We found you, a long time ago,” Ana started the story, shattering the silence and the truth. “Talon had attacked your village, burned it to the ground, slain the human citizens and captured as many of the dragons they could. Save for you. In the aftermath of the battle and slaughter, we found you, a tiny babe wrapped in gold cloth in the collapsed hearth of a fireplace. We took you with us, from place to place during those dark times, and taught you as you grew. Raised you. Until one day…” Ana sighed. Reinhardt reached to her, rested a massive hand on her back so delicately, Angela didn’t see the fabric of her cloak bend under the weight of his hand. “Until one day, Talon attacked our central base, emboldened by several previous raids on dragon homes before. It was then that we discovered your healing power, channeled through a dragonstone. The very stone that became the head of your staff.” She smiled sadly. “You were curled around that dragonstone when we found you as a baby, clinging to it as if it were your mother.”

Her eyes fell onto the yellow stone at the end of her staff. Somewhere in the fog of forgotten things, Ana’s words resonated. She could imagine the scene as clearly as if she had been there. She could imagine herself hugging that stone so tightly that it radiated warmth against the cold of night. It was winter.

Angela felt ridiculous asking an obvious question. “What is a dragonstone?”

Ana and Reinhardt exchanged glances before the latter answered. “A dragonstone is part of a dragon. Its eye, its brain, sometimes even the heart. The stone itself varies from dragon to dragon, as does its color and properties. It is the collected power and _essence_ of a dragon that forms when a dragon’s life ends. The older the dragon when it passes, the more powerful the stone. Even unhatched dracklings will have stones. Yours…” He hesitated. “We weren’t sure where yours came from, or who it had belonged to. We still don’t know. And until that battle against Talon, when you were a wee lass, we didn’t know what it was or could do.”

“I don’t understand. Does the magic come from me or from the stone?”

Again there was that hesitation, that careful choosing of words before Ana answered. “Both. The healing magic itself comes from you, but when you channel it through the stone, it becomes amplified and easier to control. It also reduces any backlash you may receive from using your magic. At that battle, the first time your power was released, the backlash was so intense that you received the very wounds you healed from others. It nearly killed you. After that, we trained you, taught you, and gave you your staff.”

“But…”

“Talon attacked again,” continued Reinhardt. “They had learned that we had a healer and a powerful dragonstone, and they attacked in force in an attempt to capture both. We lost many dragons that day, and it was determined that you be hidden and your memories sealed. I remained in Germany to watch over you, and to alert the others if Talon discovered your whereabouts. That was almost twenty years ago.”

Angela swiftly did the math in her head. They had abandoned her when she was only twelve. No, not abandoned, she shortly reminded herself. Reinhardt had remained to watch over her, to protect her as she continued to hone her abilities. He waited for the moment when the time was right to bring her home, to where she belonged, to where she could make a difference. Suddenly so many things made sense. Why she hadn’t been so afraid of a dragon’s presence near her home, why Ana’s voice was so hauntingly soothing and familiar, why Fareeha…

“Did Fareeha know?”

Ana shrugged with one shoulder, sipping her tea. “If she did, she didn’t say so. She was a small child when you were hidden away. A girl barely walking and talking. But ah,” she smiled, a sparkle in her eye, “you two were inseparable. Genji as well. The three of you often got into trouble together, running about the castles and camps and filling the air with laughter.” The old woman chuckled to herself. “We had hoped that when you became a woman and he a man, the two of you would become mates.”

“An arranged marriage.”

Reinhardt waved his hands defensively, shaking his head. “Not like that. But I admit, we may have orchestrated a few scenarios to keep the two of you near one another.”

His attempt to reassure her only made the stone of doubt sink further in her stomach. The words she wanted to say were on the tip of her tongue, and it ached her lips to not be able to speak them. Not to Ana especially. Could she truly accept or understand the depth of what Angela felt, especially for her daughter?

Misjudging Angela’s discomfort, the Egyptian reached across the table to pat Angela’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t fret, child. You are still young, and there will be time for that later, once we get the ground firmly settled beneath you.”

Angela nodded, her sinking stomach lifting only enough that she was no longer in pain. Instead, she was numb. Ana stood gracefully and helped Reinhardt clamber to his feet. “In the meantime, dear,” Ana told Angela. “You will get some rest. And when you are ready, we will unseal your memories.”

“Unseal them?”

“You didn’t merely forget your past,” Ana answered. “We hid the memories away, until you were old enough and ready to remember them.”

“And...if…”

“If you’re not ready?” Ana asked with a smile.

Angela again nodded.

“Then the seal remains, and you will not remember.” She patted the young woman’s shoulder, then helped her to her feet. Angela’s legs shook beneath her, stiff from the position she had been sitting in. She shakily bent down to retrieve her staff, hugging it to her bosom. “It will be your decision to have them remain sealed or be opened to you. And you will be the one to tell us when you are ready. For now, though, you need to sleep. You’ve had a long and trying day, and an even longer night before.”

Ana parted the curtain that separated her room from the hallway with a sweeping gesture. Angela followed her out, the older woman letting the fabric fall behind her. The blonde hugged herself, the coolness of the cave tickling her clothes still damp from her brief jaunt in the ocean. Ana gestured for the younger woman to follow her through the maze of corridors. The stone gave way to steel as they left the hand-carved caves for man-made hallways. They entered a room lined with lockers, trunks, and benches. On one locker, on the small chalkboard square, Angela’s name was written in white. A padlock and key was produced from Ana’s cloak of many secrets.

“You’ll find some spare clothes, and it’s large enough to house your staff while you are here,” Ana explained. As Angela took the lock and key, Ana pointed with a nod of her head toward a door. “That is the women’s showers and bath-house, and through that door over there is the common sleeping room. Once Athena has seen you, we will see about getting you a proper room.” She turned to leave Angela alone, but hesitated. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Are there any other healers here? In Gibraltar?”

The elder woman smiled knowingly. “Or are you the only one?” She chuckled to herself. “No, my dear, you are not the only one. I am a healer as well, and my mission in Nepal brought us another, quite extraordinary healer. I’m sure the two of you will have time to become acquainted later. But for now, rest.”

Ana left before she could see Angela pout in frustration. How could she be expected to sleep when she had only just arrived?

Angela slid the door to the common room open enough to peer through the darkness. Lights embedded in the floor were dimmed just enough to illuminate paths between the tidily organized array of cots. All of the lumps of bodies seemed so uniform that for a moment Angela’s heart sank. Just as she was about to give up her search, her gaze caught a sparkle of gold. As quietly as possible, she opened her locker and stood her staff inside, locking it and tucking the key in a pocket. Smiling to herself Angela slid through the crack in the door and tiptoed to Fareeha’s side.

The draconian lifted her head as Angela knelt beside her cot. “What are you doing here?” Fareeha whispered.

“I was given the order to rest,” was the hushed response.

Without a further word, Fareeha rolled onto her side and lifted the edge of the blanket. Angela hastily undressed; she removed her boots, sandy socks, and moist tunics and gowns down to her last slip. Her clothes puddled on the floor and were shoved underneath Fareeha’s cot. The blonde’s eyes adjusted to the darkness; she could see the shy smile on her companion’s face. Fareeha’s warmth and exotic perfume blanketed her further as Angela slid into the cot. The draconian tucked the edge of the blanket around her and shifted the pillow so that both of their heads rested on the cushion. Fareeha’s arm under her neck supported Angela’s head further, and arms wrapped around waists to pull each other closer.

Angela closed her eyes, her head tucked under the warrior’s chin. She hadn’t felt sleepy or tired before; she had only meant to brush her fingers against Fareeha’s in passing or watch her sleep from a neighboring cot. But now, laying in the presence of the Egyptian’s glowing warmth and surrounded by her familiar, intoxicating scent, Angela struggled to keep her eyes open.

How long she slept for, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that one moment she was dreaming of the caress of bare skin and the taste of exotic sweat, and in the next moment, low-whispering voices pulled her into reality. She was awake to hear the steps of someone walking away from them, and she was awake to appreciate the gentle nuzzling of Fareeha’s lips against her neck and ear. She sighed at that delightful touch against her skin, her heart still aching for that pleasure of her dreams.

“You need to wake up,” Fareeha purred in Angela’s ear.

She shuddered at the voice and the lingering memory of her wanton dream. Something about Fareeha’s voice rippled like spiced honey down the length of her spine, sending warmth to the tips of her fingers and sparkles through her stomach. She could have laid there forever, wrapped in the other woman’s embrace and subject to her touch, but such bliss couldn’t last.

Angela squeaked and curled in on herself as the blanket was torn way and the cool air of the dark room rushed like water over her naked skin. Fareeha chuckled lightly under her breath, rolling out of the cot and onto her feet. Deprived of her warmth, Angela begrudgingly followed. She scooped up her cold clothes and allowed Fareeha to lead her to the locker room. The blonde stopped short as Fareeha opened one of the lockers and began to undress. Her useless lesbian heart thumped in her chest so heavily that she choked on it, and her clothes in her arms slipped onto the floor.

Under that black shirt and pants was a sports bra and the rippling muscles of a seasoned warrior. Cream scars criss-crossed the waving sea of sweetened coffee skin. The wonder and awe and raw desire Angela felt melted into sadness at the sight of a puncture scar on Fareeha’s back. That one, Angela knew. That one, Widowmaker had given her. Her body moved of its own will, crossing the space between them.

Fareeha didn’t flinch as Angela’s light fingers rested on that spiderwebbed scar. She didn’t move away as Angela touched her cheek to that firm yet supple flesh.

“I’m so sorry,” Angela whispered, her eyes sparkling with tears.

“Don’t be, _amira._ ” Fareeha was smiling as she turned to face Angela. She didn’t blush with embarrassment or shy away from the blonde’s touch. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

“What does that word mean?” Angela asked. “ _Amira_ …” She stumbled on the word, tasting it with the roll of her tongue. “You called me that the other day.”

The Egyptian grinned. Her hand cupped Angela’s cheek and kept her still long enough for Fareeha to lean close, to kiss her forehead, to whisper in Angela’s ear, “It’s ‘princess’ in Arabic.”

Angela purred at Fareeha’s touch, closing her eyes. She could melt like chocolate under that blazing touch. “And what should I call you?” Angela asked, her eyes barely opening enough to focus on those lips she could already taste.

“ _Zawja_.”

She licked her lips and said the word. Fareeha grinned as Angela tried again. “ _Zawja_ ,” Angela whispered as the Egyptian leaned over her, pressing her against the cold metal of the locker. She could feel her own breath against Fareeha’s lips, so close to her own. “What does that mean?”

“Wife,” was the promise spoken before lips met in a passionate kiss.

Angela wrapped her arms around Fareeha’s torso, pulling her tight against her body as the warrior braced herself against the locker. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel her heartbeat as they kissed. The world seemed to spin beneath her feet, and it reminded her of flying. She arched into Fareeha as she felt a calloused hand rest on her thigh, pulling her further into the other woman’s body. Angela curled her leg around Fareeha’s, but it wasn’t enough. She could never be close enough. Solid heat pressed against the mound of her womanhood, protected only by two layers of fabric. She shuddered and gasped as that flat palm slid up her leg, pushing up her slip and taking away one of those layers. That hand curved around her flesh and teasing fingers toyed with the band of Angela’s panties. She bit her bottom lip to keep from making any noise as Fareeha kissed down the length of her neck, biting gently on that sweet spot between neck and shoulder. _“Want...more...want…more...”_ The words repeated in her mind to the beat of her heart and the grinding of Fareeha’s hips.

“Ah- _HEM_.”

The blonde felt Fareeha flinch in her arms, the pair peeling themselves away from each other just enough to turn their gaze to the sound of the forced cough. Ana stared at them, her face unreadable save for her quirked eyebrow.

“Athena is waiting for you,” she informed Angela. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Yes...o-of course…”

Under the cyclopean gaze of the alchemist, the two lovers separated themselves from one another and rightened any adjusted clothing or askew hems. Angela found her second set of clothes waiting in the locker as promised, and dressed herself in a clean white blouse, cream-colored _dirndl_ dress, and bright yellow pinafore. Her eyes on Fareeha, she made a point to tie the bow on the right. She’d never made a surer knot in her life. Though she doubted anyone in Gibraltar would know the folklore, it still gave her confidence to have that bow tied to show that she was being courted. She rolled the hose up the length of her legs and stepped into the modest low heels that fit her just right. Now she felt like a princess. She ran her hands over the silken pinafore, and she would have wondered at the cost of such elegant clothing if she had had the time to wonder. Instead, under Ana’s watchful eye, Angela could only hang her wet clothes in the locker to be cleaned and replaced and grab her staff.

Satisfied, Ana opened the door out of the locker room and turned to leave. She didn’t see Angela spin quickly on her tiptoes to steal a last-moment kiss from Fareeha before following her elder out.


	7. Chapter 7

Ana said nothing as she guided Angela through the winding twists and turns of the complex. Angela still had no clue as to the hour. They didn’t pass any windows as they went deeper into the cliff and stone, and Angela didn’t spot a single clock in their journey. Instead, they followed a trail of candles left behind by someone who had prepared the way for them. The sounds of the occupied quarters became quiet, save for the echoing beat of their footsteps. Angela shivered, suddenly worried that Ana was leading her to a secluded place to be executed.

Then Angela heard the hum of a machine. Her brows furrowed as the amber stone was suddenly replaced by a steel door. Unnatural light filled the tunnel, created by boxes that made Angela’s eyes hurt. Ana stepped ahead of Angela and turned her back to the door, standing between the blonde and the secrets behind the steel.

“What you are about to see, many have not,” Ana warned her. “Athena is a secret amongst the dragons. She guides us, leads us, and in return we protect her from Talon, who would use her power and knowledge to complete their quest of corruption. If she should fall into enemy hands, we would be lost.” Her eye narrowed at Angela. “Do you understand what I am telling you?

“That if I betray her to Talon, you will personally shoot me?”

The older woman smiled darkly. “Kissing my daughter would have its own punishment, but yes.” The smile vanished. “If you betray Athena to Talon, I will personally shoot you. Multiple times. It will take several clips before you finally die.” She turned to a small square on the door. “Or I could let Winston tear you to pieces. Either would sweeten a cup of tea.”

Angela watched with frightened wide eyes as Ana entered the code into the number pad, and the  _ whoosh _ of the doors opening further spooked any questions that had fluttered to Angela’s lips.

The room beyond the doors was beyond Angela’s imagining. It seemed to be made entirely of metal and light, and each surface gleamed with a cleanness that made the blonde shiver in cold. Squares and rectangles glowed with light and color, flashed with images she couldn’t understand and writing she couldn’t translate. One screen had line after line of ones and zeros scrolling upwards as more appeared at the bottom. Cords like tendrils ran here and there in a chaotic web that would even tangle the poisonous Widowmaker. In the center of the room was a circular platform of white light.

“Doctor Ziegler! I’m glad to see you again!”

Her attention turned to the source of the man’s voice coming out from behind a plastic curtain. Ana’s hand shot to her arm to either hold Angela in place or steady her from a coming swoon as a massive gorilla lumbered toward them with practiced ease. She had heard stories of the dark heart of Africa and the monstrous apes that ruled the canopies, but never had Angela read any mention of armor in those stories. The armor, much like Fareeha’s, was bulky and appeared to be made of a material Angela knew nothing about. Under that was a suit of white and black that covered most of the gorilla’s body, save for his hands and feet.

The most peculiar thing about the gorilla was the spectacles sitting delicately on the bridge of his nose. Spectacles that he adjusted as he stopped in front of the pair.

The gorilla grinned, looking over her. “Yes, yes, you seem to be doing just well here! Tell me, you are a doctor, aren’t you?”

Angela bit the side of her tongue to make sure she was actually awake before her mind flailed for an answer. She shook her head slowly. “N-no...I am not a doctor.” A shy smile bloomed from her fear. “Only a medicine woman.”

His grin faded, and he adjusted his glasses once more to look her over from head to toe. His gaze fell onto her staff. “Ah. I see now. Then I guess that means…” He grunted and shook his head. “That means that this is our first introduction! I am Winston. I’d offer my hand to shake, but…” He lifted one of his gargantuan paws and laughed as Angela flinched. “It’ll take getting used to. In the meantime, you are here to see Athena.”

On knuckles and feet he swiftly crossed the distance of the room to one of the screens, and with mind-bending dexterity, quickly typed on the keyboard below it. The luminous platform changed colors, rippling from whites to shades of blue like reflections of water at the bottom of a crystal clear pool. An image appeared floating above the platform, taking shape slowly. First it was a tall, slender metal figure in a humanoid shape with blurred features. Then, as Athena formed, it took shape of a woman near Angela’s age. The tips of her toes didn’t touch the surface of the pad, and her long-sleeved white gown flowed as if she were floating in water. She was bald, and a bright blue circular stone was embedded in the center of her forehead. Her eyes were closed, but she smiled all the same as if she could see Angela in front of her.

“I am Athena,” the woman introduced herself, tilting her head in a small bow.

Angela hugged her staff closer. “You’re not…”

“A dragon?” Athena asked with amusement in her voice.

“What I expected.”

The floating woman chuckled lightly. “A common reaction.” Her smile faltered. “I had hoped that you would recognize Winston or I, but it seems…”

“Her memories have remained sealed so far,” Ana interjected.

Athena shook her head. “I fear those memories are not the ones I refer to.” Though her face was turned toward Angela and Ana, her question was directed to Winston behind her. “Have you had a chance to scan her or her staff?”

“Not yet.” The gorilla gestured to another circular platform. This one was not illuminated. “Miss Ziegler, if you would kindly.”

Unsure of herself, Angela stepped up onto the platform. It came to life beneath her, lighting up at the press of several keys on Winston’s keyboard. A ring of light floated upwards from the platform, slid over her until it reached a point above her head, and then fell downwards to disappear at her feet. The platform beneath her became dull once more, and she knew without having to be told that she could step down. She accepted a hand from Ana to help steady herself.

“Well, she doesn’t have the nanotechnology,” Winston muttered, adjusting his spectacle as he went over line after blooming line of code.

“The basic concept remains constant between two points,” replied Athena. 

“That would account for  _ some _ aspects, but not all of them.”

“Minor variations have already been accounted for. We knew that not everything would remain the same.”

“If we could pinpoint the point of origin between the two planes, maybe a link can be made?”

“The power output to establish a connection would be too taxing for the technology of this plane. The connection would have to be established from the point of origin, and we’ve yet to establish contact.”

“Assuming the basic foundation of concept remains constant between two planes, the theoretical power of solid light combined with the accelerator could establish a connection with minimal power requirement.” Winston grunted, adjusting his spectacles once more. “More tests are needed.”

“Understood.” Her head tilted slightly toward Ana and Angela. “I apologize for any confusion. Winston and I are still gathering necessary information.” She sighed. “Miss Ziegler, would you be willing to allow us to further study your staff for a brief period of time?”

She held it closer on instinct.

Athena smiled. “It will be returned to you undamaged, I promise. Only an hour or so.”

Winston frowned. “Will that be enough time for thorough testing?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

The gorilla lumbered toward Angela, offering a hand to her. Reluctantly, she handed over her staff and watched as Winston carefully placed it in a column of light produced by yet another luminous circular platform. The staff floated in the air as Winston let go of it, held suspended by some magic. Angela shivered. She could sense Widowmaker’s poisonous magic when the purple dragon attacked her village, but this magic she couldn’t feel at all.

“We will return in an hour,” Ana promised them, guiding Angela out.

Winston didn’t answer, buried in the information the glowing screens provided him, and Athena faded away before the pair left the room.

Angela hugged herself as the steel door closed and sealed behind them. She shook her head, the beginnings of an ache forming behind her eyes. The way the two had spoken, it was almost as if it had been in another language. It could have been, despite the fact that they had used English words. Had it been a code of some sort? How could she fully trust…

“Do not overthink the situation,” Ana interrupted her thoughts, as if hearing them for herself. “Their ways may be strange and their manner of speaking peculiar, but Winston has provided us with many technologies beyond our understanding, and Athena has guided us well in the absence of leadership.”

“But they seem so...foreign. As if…”

“As if they were from another world?”

Angela nodded.

Ana sighed to herself. “You are not the only one to think that. In truth, they have only been with us for a short time. Athena’s knowledge of us is uncanny, and she has been able to accurately predict the location of certain personnel and dragons to fight for our cause. She has done much to secure our survival, but it hasn’t gone unnoticed that she and Winston have an agenda of their own.”

“So what do we do?”

“For now, we follow them, for the lack of a better leader.”

“What happened?”

The old woman smiled sadly. “That story deserves a cup of tea and a place to sit.”

Angela asked no more questions, knowing that it was the last answer she’d get until Ana got what she wanted. The Egyptian led her into the stone complex, down a set of stairs, and into an alcove in the cliffside. Angela found herself smiling, despite the nature of the conversation they were about to have. She leaned against the stone bannister and admired the view of the ocean and beaches. There was the armored man, sitting on the sand just far enough away that the spray of the waves couldn’t touch him. Genji, Angela remembered Ana calling him. With him was another man in sleek copper armor, though he seemed to float just a bit off the ground. Together they meditated, facing the beautiful ocean and the crimson sunset.

Ana sat behind her in a wicker chair and exchanged quiet words with a servant. The servant left silently, and Angela could feel the burn of that single eye boring a hole through her back. She expected the older woman to speak, and still flinched when she did.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Her hesitation to answer was telling enough.

“You may speak freely, child. I may joke about shooting you, but I won’t.”

The blonde smiled a little to herself. “I can’t explain it,” Angela finally admitted. “The feeling of flying, I can find words for. I could describe in detail the sensations of my healing magic and the power of my staff, but Fareeha…” She shook her head. “It’s as if I didn’t realize that a part of me was missing, and that as I spend more time with her, that missing piece is slowly regrowing. I feel as if I will die if I’m gone from her side for too long.”

“When a dragon chooses its mate, a bond forms.” Ana dug through her cloak and produced a small pack of cigarettes. As she spoke, she pulled one out, tapped it against the box to adjust the loose tobacco, put away the box, and searched for a lighter on her person. “That bond may form as quickly as a moment, or may take as long as years to bloom to its full potential. It grows despite age or gender, despite feeling or adversity.” She chuckled lowly, her lips holding the cigarette in place as she lit it. “We have a pair that are always at each other’s throats when in the public eye. Always bickering like old ladies, always trying to one-up each other, always battling for dominance. But in private…” She sighed out that first puff. “Ahh, those two are very passionate. But the manner of men is not for discussion with a young lady.” She grinned. “I had hoped my baby girl would be my baby for a few more years, but such mature things cannot be forbidden forever.”

Angela blushed. “I understand that as a mother you’d want to protect her…”

“Baaah!” Ana waved the cloud of smoke and Angela’s protestations away. “Fareeha hasn’t needed my protection for many years now. Mmm, and she has you now to watch over her.” She looked over Angela as the blonde finally sat in the other wicker chair, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress. “You are a fine woman, Angela. I will not protest to you marrying my daughter. But.” She leaned forward in her seat, pointed two fingers at Angela sternly. Her single eye narrowed dangerously. “If you break her heart, I will break you.”

“I have no intention of hurting her,” Angela promised.

“Good. Now...where were we? Ah!” The servant returned with a tray of tea, a plate of small cucumber sandwiches, and a second plate of small madeline cookies. Ana poured the tea, and Angela took in a deep breath of the scented steam that rose from her cup. Green ginger with lemongrass. Angela added only one cube of sugar to hers while the older woman added nothing to her cup of tea. “You asked, ‘What happened?’ That is a story that goes back many years, far back before you were born.”

Ana finished her cigarette and snuffed it out in a small crystal dish that had been brought with the tray. She held her teacup by the dish and leaned back into her chair. The chair leaned back with her, and she rocked herself with a single foot. Angela smiled to herself, making her feel like a little girl all over again as Nana Ana told her a story.

“We were led by two kings. Gabriel and Jack. Gabriel was the voice of the dragons, and Jack spoke for the humans. They were mates, so long ago. It was symbolic at first, but they grew to love one another, depend on one another, and lived in a harmony that echoed through the world. Humans and dragons lived side by side then. There was a dragon for every human.” She smiled as she closed her eye. “There were small dragons, massive dragons...and each had a human form and most had human mates. Humans had no need for war, and if conflict arose, we were always quick to intervene. We were negotiators in power struggles, and we were the executors of justice. When humans were deemed unfit to rule, we ruled in their place until Jack could find worthiness in their leadership.”

She sighed deeply, as if the weight of the world were catching up to her.

“One day, a plague began. It started as a thought, as a single voice whispering ‘No more’. It spread like wildfire. The dragons, human began to believe, were  _ too _ powerful. They ruled  _ too _ long,  _ too _ well. They were withholding riches from the humans. Even the smallest herding dragon had a rumored horde of wealth. Gabriel, without Jack knowing, became poisoned by this plague. His heart darkened, and as Jack’s grip on the humans he spoke for began to slip, the dragons became more impatient. They heard the whispers too. Humans, the dragons knew, were mortal. They were  _ too _ weak, needed  _ too much _ looking after. Were  _ too _ prone to violence.”

Her eye opened slowly to look at the bits of leaves floating in her cup.

“Jack was cast out from Gabriel’s heart, and he fell into the hands of the humans he fought so hard to protect. Those humans...did not welcome him kindly from his fall from grace. War began. The hunts began. The murders began. And Talon began, rising from the ashes of conflict and bloodshed like some terrible phoenix.”

Ana set aside her cup of tea as she leaned forward in her wicker chair. 

“We do not know where the poison began. We thought that it had been Widowmaker, with her influential, seductive nature, but she is only a pawn. Perhaps it was Gabriel himself, hungry still for more power. As if what he had wasn’t enough. And perhaps it wasn’t. Talon believes only in power, and that those in power and with power are bound by duty divine to rule over those without power. To Talon, humans are mere bugs to be crushed when they refuse to serve or bow. And dragons...There are dragons that do not have the gift of destruction, and those are subjected to violence and terror until they too are forced to serve.”

Her hands clasped before her, her elbows on her knees.

“The dragons were slaughtered. Humans were too at first, but not nearly as many. For the humans, it took only a few examples to be made for them to realize there was no point in fighting back. But for the dragons…”

She smiled weakly.

“Dragons don’t learn very well. The humans turned against us and were rewarded wealth and titles for every dragonstone they presented to Talon, for every slave they brought to Talon’s cause. But still we fight back. Still we rally and still we fight until our numbers dwindle to the point that we are on the brink of extinction.”

She lifted her cup again and sat back in her chair.

“The war is essentially over. Talon has won. We’re merely a band of rebels, and they’ve withdrawn their iron-fisted rule to let the humans squabble for the power left in the void of Talon’s absence. Or so we are meant to believe. Those of us still alive, those of us who remember the old days, have a finger on the pulse of power.  _ We _ know who to trust and who not to.  _ We _ know who was placed in positions of power by Talon, and who fought for their place to make a difference. And we know that Talon hasn’t truly won the war, because…” She trailed off intentionally to see if Angela was paying attention.

“Because they’re still fighting,” she whispered into her cup.

Ana nodded. “Because they’re still looking for something. They’re still gathering dragonstones, still trying to harness their magical power for some last battle, some grand final stand.”

“But Winston and Athena? Where do they fall in all of this?”

The elderly woman sighed. “We found you in the midst of the birth of the revolution and brought you to a secret castle in the mountains of Germany.”

“Eichenwald Castle.”

“Yes. It had been built as a sanctuary for dragons long ago, in the early days of the harmony of dragons and humans.” Angela shivered as Ana’s words sunk in, remembering the beautiful door of hand-carved wood. “When Talon attacked, looking for you, our people were scattered further, for fear that too many of us in one place would draw the attentions of Talon too close. Jack, who had been leading us in Gabriel’s absence, vanished. We began to despair that there would not be any hope of returning to peace and that the world would truly fall into Talon’s clutches. But then, from Gibraltar, a beacon of hope illuminated.

“Athena appeared, with Winston as her guardian. Together, they carved shelter into the cliffside and sent word out to the dragons one by one. When they contacted the old lieutenants first, they sent one messenger with one slip of paper and one word written on it with a gold and black seal below.”

“What was the word?”

“Overwatch.”


	8. Chapter 8

Angela felt a flinch, as if all of her _inside_ shifted an inch while her body remained in place. Her heart raced for a moment, and she waited until calm settled over her before she spoke again. “Overwatch?” The word felt forbidden on her tongue, as if speaking it three times would summon a spectral army of soldiers and mercenaries. “What does that mean?”

With a single movement, Ana both shrugged and shook her head. “None of us know. But something about that single word resonated in our hearts, down to the very core of our souls. On the first day, there were only three of us. Athena was innocent to the war that had happened and heard our story, and then we heard her wisdom. ‘Talon will only prevail if you allow them to,’ she told us. ‘As long as there is hope, the war isn’t over.’ She sent us out to rally others, at first looking for specific dragons and humans she knew were allies. And as we met those recruits, those familiar old friends and fresh new faces, others began to follow. Until…” She gestured around the room, and Angela knew she meant more than that. “Here we are.”

“What happens next?”

Again, the old woman shrugged. “We have been fortunate enough to be one step ahead of Talon. Athena has been able to accurately predict when and where they will strike next so that we can be in place, or not, when the enemy arrives. Through assignments, missions, and minor quests, she has helped us gain footing in the hearts of humans by showing them that not all dragons are evil.” She chuckled to herself. “While I was in Nepal debating with monks on the philosophies and ethics of immortality, a small team of dragons and humans were in America acting as bodyguards for a rather obnoxious entertainer. Still, it is work and it pays, and goddess knows we need any funding we can get. All the while, we have been trying to keep our race from dying out through encouraged relationships and mating.”

Angela blushed at the reminder, trying to hide behind her cup as she sipped the now-cold tea.

Ana laughed, rocking in her chair with her hands clasped in her lap. “Which brings us back to you and my daughter…” She sighed as she closed her eye. “Ahhh, what adorable grandchildren! But are the two of you compatible?”

“I believe we are,” Angela answered honestly. “We’ve fought alongside one another once before.”

“Yes, and the two of you have difficulty keeping apart for very long.” Ana stroked the length of her braid thoughtfully, humming to herself. “We will have to see what Athena has in store for you. These things take time, but sometimes, that is one necessity we don’t have.” She stood and stretched, and Angela flinched at the sound of stiff joints popping loose. “It has been an hour, dear.”

“Of course…”

Angela stood, setting her cup on the platter to be picked up later. She followed Ana through the hallways back to the steel door. She wasn’t as startled as the door opened to the advanced technology on the other side, and upon seeing Winston again, she wasn’t as afraid.

Athena appeared as he handed the staff back to Angela. “As promised,” she said with a smile.

The blonde ran her hand along the length of her staff, inspecting it. She nodded in approval.

“Ana,” the smile on the old woman’s face faded instantly at the serious tone of Athena’s voice. “There is a dragonstone we need to examine, belonging to a specific person. Gather a small team and send them to London, England. The young woman you are looking for is named Lena. She may be difficult to track, due to the nature of her dragonstone, and there is word that a dragon hunt is forming to capture her.” She smiled at Angela. “When you return, we will see about getting you your wings.”

Ana nodded and left at such a pace that Angela had to dash to catch up to the older woman. “I want you to go,” she told Angela as they walked quickly back to the central base. “You and Fareeha need more time together, and it is a long way to England.” As they entered the bustling common area, she grabbed the first servant that had the misfortune of crossing her path by the scruff of their collar. “Find my daughter and Reinhardt. Tell them to gear up and meet me at the departure pad immediately.” She let go of the servant and turned her gaze to Angela. “Get your gun.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. Angela ran to the barracks. Fareeha was already in that locker room, donning her heavy armor. Wordlessly, Angela helped her with the straps and buckles of the plates and guards. Her helmet tucked under her arm, Fareeha was ready. All Angela had to grab was her pistol, which she hadn’t thought about until Ana mentioned it. Opening her locker, she was greeted by the sight of the hanging holster and the weapon clasped in its pocket. The holster went around her hips and waist, sitting gently on top of her dress with the gun on her right side. She withdrew it quickly, snapping the quick release, and admired the weapon. It was a much more advanced version of the six-shooter she had left in her cabin. Sleek and yet heavy, she couldn’t figure out how it reloaded. There was no obvious place for a magazine, clip, or individual bullets.

When she glanced at Fareeha, she found the Egyptian smirking. “I promised you I’d get you a new one.”

“Somehow I don’t think this is your doing,” Angela replied, grinning.

Fareeha shrugged with one shoulder, a mirror of her mother’s gesture. “Who is to say I didn’t assist in its design? Winston tells me that it doesn’t take ammunition. It draws energy from your staff. Thought it doesn’t need to be reloaded, it does get overheated. It is still a prototype after all.”

“Better than nothing.” She holstered the weapon and stood on tiptoes to kiss Fareeha quickly. “Thank you.”

Grinning, Fareeha led her out.

Angela heard the heavy clattering of Reinhardt’s armor before she saw him. The old man said nothing, his face a stern mask of serious thought as he joined the two. Ana was already out at the storage shed by that open platform they had landed at so long ago. The area was illuminated by dozens of torches; the flames flickering in ocean winds cast dancing shadows along the old woman’s face. In this light, she looked more tired than serious. The deep set wrinkles around Ana’s eyes made Angela’s heart sink. How long had she been fighting? And how much longer did she have before the last grain of sand fell?

Her worries were cast aside as the old woman smiled at their approach. Though she was helping Angela into harnesses and cloaks, her words were directed to Reinhardt. “Latest weather reports say clear skies for your flight, but it is London. There will be rain.”

“Yes, Ana.”

“It’s an eighteen hour flight. Stop in Bordeaux to rest and eat, and give my regards to Andre while you’re there.”

“Yes, Ana.”

“And don’t forget, England is the worst when it comes to the dragon hunters and human fear. They will be difficult to gather information from and --”

“Ana!”

The old woman glanced at him, his eyebrows raised pointedly. She sighed and smoothed the cloak around Angela’s shoulders.

“You have the mission details from Athena?” Ana asked him.

Reinhardt pulled a crinkled paper from the inside of his armor and shook it at her once before stowing it away once more.

She could only smile in defeat. “Very well then.” As Reinhardt walked away to transform, Ana wrapped her arms around Fareeha’s shoulders. “You be careful, child.”

Fareeha returned the hug with one arm. “Always, mama.”

Ana grinned at Angela. “You’ll take care of her.”

“Because you’ll shoot me if I don’t?”

The old woman laughed as Fareeha transformed into a dragon. Ana placed a blanket around Fareeha’s shoulders and helped the blonde onto the blue dragon’s back. She secured the harnesses that would keep Angela in place, letting the younger woman settle in and make herself comfortable before tightening the leather straps further. A book was produced from the shadows of Ana’s cloak and pressed into Angela’s hands.

“I suggest getting some rest while you can, but flights are long and boring for most humans,” Ana answered the unspoken question before it could reach Angela’s lips. “It’s a full moon. A good light to read by.”

“Thank you.”

Ana said nothing further, stepping back to give her daughter room to stretch her wings.

The winds spun into a cyclone as Fareeha and Reinhardt pushed off the platform and lifted into the air. Ana stood her ground, and Angela watched her shrink with every wingbeat until she was only a spot on the sandstone.

As the pair of dragons ascended, Angela leaned close to Fareeha to hug the dragon’s long neck. The wind whipped her face and bit her cheeks, but she ignored the discomfort. This time she didn’t cry as they flew. This time, Angela was wide awake and allowed herself to fully enjoy the thrill of the flight and the feeling of _oneness_ with the air and the clouds and with Fareeha. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against the warmth of Fareeha’s scales. The borrowed goggles made the gesture awkward, but she smiled to herself regardless as Fareeha thrummed happily in a deep purr that resonated against Angela. She could feel the murmur through her body and in her own heart, her hands caressing the sapphire scales.

Angela sat up and admired the view. The night was clear, as Ana had promised, and as Angela looked back, she could see the fading lights of Gibraltar disappearing in the distance. Reinhardt’s massive silver form was a sword that cut through the night sky ahead of them. The ocean became a black puddle of ink, save for a silver ribbon of the moon’s rippling reflection and sparkles like glitter from the stars above. The wind ran cold fingers through her hair, disheveling it to the point that she removed the cord keeping her hair bound before it could be lost. She smiled at the feeling of the wind through her hair and on her neck, closing her eyes and imagining Fareeha’s hands running those cool fingers through her hair. She imagined those hands massaging her scalp and sliding down her neck, imagined light fingertips following the curves of her muscles to touch her throat and collarbone, pushing back the fabric of her clothes to bare her further to the cold night sky.

Fareeha shrugged beneath her, startling Angela out of her fantasy. The dragon glanced behind her and gave Angela a stern glare. She flushed with sudden realization. Fareeha had somehow known what Angela was thinking about. Was it a dragon thing? Could a dragon sense when its mate was aroused? Both Reinhardt and Ana had suggested that flying with Fareeha would help strengthen their bond, but Angela had only given those remarks a mere passing thought. Maybe there was something more to it than just being _near_ Fareeha.

The blonde licked her lips at a thought, suddenly nervous and self-aware. She leaned down, her hands running up the length of Fareeha’s neck and down again to her shoulders, where wing met back. She closed her eyes, feeling the movement of muscles under her hands. Pressing herself against those warm scales, she felt the pulse of wingbeats and somewhere deeper, further below that, Fareeha’s pulse. Her hand moved of its own volition, searching and finding that place on the dragon’s neck where she could feel Fareeha’s heartbeat underneath her palm. Against her chest, she could feel Fareeha’s steady breathing.

Clearing her mind, Angela focused on her breathing. She held her breath, inhaled as Fareeha inhaled, exhaled as Fareeha exhaled. The dragon’s lungs were greater than her own, and each deepening breath burned Angela’s chest. Yet every breath brought them closer to being synchronised, brought their hearts closer to becoming _one_.

A spark fluttered in her heart, like the bud of a small flower blooming and releasing warmth that flowed through Angela’s veins. It spread to her fingertips and to the base of her skull, to the tips of her toes and to that place in her abdomen where flutterings had shivered before.

_Stop that…_

_You don’t know what you’re doing…_

“Yes, I do,” Angela whispered, her breath and heartbeat one with Fareeha’s.

Like a faucet suddenly shut off or a line suddenly cut, the connection snapped between them. The absence of that warmth made Angela shiver, as if all that warmth were instantly replaced with ice. Save for a single string, a thread binding them just enough for her to hear Fareeha’s voice in her mind.

_Bonding mid-flight is dangerous…_

Angela pouted, unable to mask the hurt in her heart. Still, she felt Fareeha smirk.

_We’ll continue when we land…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 will bump the fic up from Mature to Explicit for sexual content. Be sure to change your settings to allow the viewing of Explicit fics, or subscribe so you don't miss it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been changed from Mature to Explicit for containing sexually explicit material.

Angela spent the rest of the flight reading and trying not to think about the dragon’s promise or their failed connection. The flight was boring once the tingling of excitement and arousal wore off. She became increasingly grateful for the book that had been pressed into her hands before departure. In hindsight, it wasn’t one that she would have picked out for herself. Angela hoped she’d remember next time to find a bookstore or library willing to part with one book in exchange for another.

Her eyes glazed over the words on the page, illuminated by the full moon’s light. Her mind was wandering from the book, debating on the merits of keeping a reading journal, when the dragon beneath her began to tilt. Angela’s arms suddenly grasped Fareeha’s neck as she worried that they were falling. It took her an embarrassingly long moment to realize their descent was controlled as they spiraled gently downwards towards a large villa on the edge of farmlands and forests. It, and many villas and mansions similar, marked the edge of the city of Bordeaux. Angela relaxed her hold on Fareeha’s neck to sit up, marking her page with a bent corner and stowing the book in the folds of the layers of furs around her.

As Ana had been waiting for their arrival in Gibraltar, another figure awaited their arrival at the villa. This gentleman was casually dressed, as if he had been roused out of bed only moments before. Reinhardt landed first and strode to the gentleman, speaking with him while Fareeha landed as gently and quietly as a dragon could. When the two men finished speaking, Reinhardt came to Angela’s side and helped her off of Fareeha’s shoulders. 

“The sun will rise in half an hour, and Andre has granted us permit to stay as his guests for the day. We will leave at sunset to continue for London,” he informed them as Fareeha returned to human form. He grinned at them. “Enjoy the comforts while you can. England will be a different beast when we arrive.”

They joined the gentleman and let him lead them into his country home. The armor of the two dragons clanked and clattered against the quiet of the morning and echoed off the marble steps leading up to the tall cedar doors. The purple and pink pre-dawn light of morning reflected on equally tall, narrow windows and decorative pool. Angela could hear the low murmur of servants at work, stepping silently as they went about their morning chores and speaking softly to one another of their duties.

Andre led them up a staircase and down a hall, gesturing to one door and then another. “The ladies’ quarters, and Reinhardt’s,” he explained. “You’ll find fresh clothing inside and a bath can be prepared when you’re ready. Breakfast will be served at ten.”

“Thank you again,” Reinhardt replied with a nod.

The man gave the ladies a small bow before walking away, leaving the trio of travelers to their own discretion. Reinhardt glanced from Fareeha to Angela and shook his head, grinning from ear to ear as he opened the door to his room and vanished behind it as it closed.

Angela found her heart suddenly racing and her stomach fluttering with nervousness. “Do you suppose…?”

“Yes,” Fareeha answered her companion’s unfinished question. “He knows.”

“Are you…?” 

“Angry with you?”

Angela couldn’t decide which was heavier; the coats and furs around her shoulders or her guilt.

Fareeha curled a finger under Angela’s chin, forcing her gaze to the Egyptian’s amber eyes and radiant smile. “I could never be angry with you,  _ mahbub _ . Annoyed, yes. Frustrated, beyond words. But angry?” She shook her head and kissed the top of Angela’s head, pushing back a lock of Angela’s hair and tucking it behind her ear. Her hand cupped the blonde’s neck, her thumb stroking the softness of Angela’s cheek as her fingers tangled in her hair. Angela closed her eyes at the touch, drawing a shaky breath as Fareeha nuzzled her neck and purred in her ear. “Never angry.”

“I want more…”

“I know you do.”

“But?”

She opened her eyes to see sadness in Fareeha’s. “We don’t have an egg. The bonding won’t truly be complete.”

Angela smiled despite her nervousness. “Then this can be practice.”

“Are you sure?”

“Fareeha...I want you.”

Who kissed who first, Angela couldn’t remember. All she knew was that Fareeha’s lips were on hers, and those strong arms had her pressed firmly between that solid sapphire armor and an equally solid door. The blonde shuddered in delight as Fareeha’s hands ran through her hair, holding onto her for dear life as Angela had clung to her before in flight. The chaste touching of lips became a desperate hunger. Lips parted. Tongues met in tentative touches at first before swirling into a dance for dominance.

Angela was out of breath when Fareeha pulled away to nibble at her neck and ear. “Fareeha…” She moaned her mate’s name. “We’re still in the hallway.”

The Egyptian pulled away enough to examine their surroundings. “Huh. So we are.” She met the gaze of a young maid and quirked an eyebrow at her. Angela stifled a giggle as the maid blushed and scurried off. Fareeha allowed her the space to come out from between her and the door, opening it and gesturing for Angela to enter first.

She would have been impressed by the size of the apartment and expensive furniture. However, her racing heart and Fareeha’s lingering touches still tingling on her skin proved too distracting. Angela couldn’t even say for sure what color the curtains were or the number of chairs that were in the sitting area. Fareeha closed the door behind them and took Angela by the hand, leading her from the sitting room to the bedroom. They had barely passed the threshold before Fareeha pulled her into her arms and lips met lips once more.

They tried to undress each other between kisses and breaths. Angela tangled with the straps of Fareeha’s armor as Fareeha struggled with the leather harness still holding the furs to Angela’s form. After bumping hands and heads several times, the pair pulled themselves away from one another to undress themselves. As Fareeha set the many pieces of her armor along the length of the baseboard, Angela neatly folded the various layers of her dress and set them on a table. She had turned her back to Fareeha, suddenly trembling with nervousness and self-awareness as she got down to her last slip and undergarments.

Angela had never touched another woman before. She had dreamed about it, fantasized about it, but never had she taken a female lover. Would Fareeha lead her, teach her what she was supposed to do? Or would the knowledge of pleasure suddenly flow into Angela’s mind like the knowledge of her magic? What if she was a terrible lover? Would Fareeha leave her then?

She flinched when warm hands cupped the curve of her shoulders, but relaxed at the touch of Fareeha’s lips along her spine. She turned to kiss Fareeha’s lips lightly.

“Sorry,” Angela apologized, laughing a little at herself. “I’m so nervous that I was over...think...ing…”

She trailed off as she realized her partner was completely naked. Fareeha’s muscular arms rested casually on Angela’s shoulders as the blonde’s eyes traveled down her body. The Egyptian radiated warmth and power, her body built for battle and for strength. She wasn’t bulky in an unattractive way either. It was as if the gods themselves took their time in crafting every curve, every hill, every valley so that, standing before Angela, she looked as if she belonged in a pantheon of her own. Angela’s mouth watered at the sight of Fareeha’s firm pride between her legs, so close to Angela’s thigh that she could feel it pulsing with wanton heat. It took everything in her to not immediately kneel down and take it into her mouth to taste her lover’s pure essence.

Fareeha grinned as Angela’s eyes came back up. “Like what you see,  _ amira _ ?”

Angela stammered for an answer. Fareeha laughed, shaking her head. She pulled Angela closer, closing her eyes as their foreheads touched in a light kiss. The blonde drew a shaky breath as she felt that fluttering once more, that bloom of warmth and electricity that quivered her heart and sent rivers of chills through her veins. It happened so quickly, so easily, that Angela questioned if what she felt was real or just a symptom of exhaustion.

_ Relax... _

_ Breathe… _

Fareeha’s voice flooded her mind, though she hadn’t felt the other woman’s lips move, so close to her own. Those pricklings traveled through her body like vines until they touched the flower of her abdomen. There the buzzing of her nerves blossomed into a burst that made her quiver. Her eyes closed, the palms of her hands tickled as if it were her hands on Fareeha’s shoulders. She felt the silk of her slip peel from her skin like the petals from a rose bud, felt the cloth brush against her skin as it fell to a puddle on the floor, and knew that Fareeha felt those things as well. 

There was only one thing left between her and her mate.

_ Two bodies... _ Fareeha’s hands were on her hips.  _ One mind… _

_ If we continue, we will be bonded. We will see through each other’s eyes. We will hear words meant for each other’s ears. Pleasure. Pain. Every thought and emotion will be shared. Without an egg, the bond will be temporary and can be broken. But when an egg is found and we join together, the bond will become permanent. _ Fareeha hesitated, and Angela could taste the woman’s fear and doubts as if they were her own. And perhaps they were, reflected back to her and amplified by their connection.  _ Are you sure you want this? Being paired with a dragon is not an easy life. _

Angela couldn’t imagine living any other life. She tried to remember what it was like to live alone in her cottage, but all she could imagine was Fareeha being there with her. Hunting together, tending the garden together, and the sound of their laughter ringing like music over the quiet of the woods. And flying. That feeling of the wind rushing through her hair and between her outstretched fingers, that feeling of complete  _ freedom _ , where not even the power of the Earth could hold her down.

She imagined that they were flying now as she kissed Fareeha without further hesitation. Her arms slid around the Egyptian’s torso, her fingers tracing the lines of muscles and scars along the expanse of creamed coffee skin. Fareeha’s hands gripped Angela’s hips, her fingers digging in to the supple flesh of Angela’s soft rounds. Angela shivered as she tipped her head back, allowing Fareeha’s hungry lips to continue kissing and suckling on the skin of her chin, her neck, and her shoulder. Angela sighed in pleasure as Fareeha continued to kiss down, pausing to give Angela’s breasts special attention before going down her stomach. As Fareeha kissed and knelt, she pulled the last guard of Angela’s chastity to the floor. 

Angela shifted her weight, spreading her legs enough to give her mate room. She braced herself on Fareeha’s shoulders and mewled in delight as warm lips and tongue touched the folds of her womanhood. She felt Fareeha’s hands running down her backside, holding her in place, and she felt her own hands on her shoulders through their connection. She bent over Fareeha, stroking down the dragon’s back and felt the echo of that sensation on her own burning skin. Her legs shook as the bubble of pleasure built in her abdomen. Her breath was ragged and uneven, and she was either whispering or screaming Fareeha’s name.

Somewhere in the cloud of pleasure, she heard Fareeha chuckle, amused at the weakness of her lover. Angela was easily guided to the nearby bed and didn’t resist as she was pushed down on it, her legs dangling over the side. Her body rippled under Fareeha’s hands as they ran along the length of her body; from Angela’s shoulders down her torso, over her breasts and stomach, and down the length of her thighs to open her further. 

“Wait…” Angela begged as Fareeha knelt to resume her ministrations. “Let me have you in return…”

Fareeha stood up enough to bend over her, to kiss Angela’s forehead. “Next time,” she purred. “Right now, I want to pleasure you.”

She pulled away and her mouth was back on Angela’s flower before she could think to protest. Angela’s back arched as that wicked tongue traced the outline of her womanhood. Her lips touched Angela’s pearl in a gentle kiss before her tongue swirled against it this way and that. Was the alphabet being spelled against her clit in English or Egyptian? Angela couldn’t think straight enough to know. All she could focus on was the thickness of Fareeha’s hair as her fingers wound through the ebony locks. She had gone from begging and screaming to singing, falling onto the bed panting as Fareeha pulled her lips away to kiss Angela’s inner thighs. She was so close to that peak that she could taste it on her lips as surely as Fareeha could taste her. Just as the fog of pleasure began to lift from her mind, Fareeha was down on her again. She suckled on the soft folds of her petals as a finger slid into the warmth of Angela’s body with relative ease, tickling her core. A second finger soon entered and that bubble of pleasure burst in Angela’s abdomen.

She collapsed panting on the bed, unable to move as the waves of pleasure washed over her. Fareeha stood over her, saliva and Angela’s essence dripping on her lips. Angela shuddered at a sudden burst from her loins, oragsming at the mere sight of Fareeha cleaning herself of Angela’s potion.

Fareeha grinned, licking a bead from her thumb. “You respond quite nicely. Is this your first time?”

Angela could only shakily nod.

“Mmm, I can tell.” 

The blonde watched with bated breath as Fareeha went to her armor and dug around in her leg-armor, pulling something from a pouch under the heavy metal. Returning to the bed, she reached to Angela and offered a hand, still moist from foreplay. Angela rested her fingers on Fareeha’s hand and was pulled to her feet, but only for a moment. Fareeha turned them and sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to unwrap a condom and slide it down her length. Her sword stood erect between them, needing little support. Angela knew what to do.

Angela mounted her lap, her knees on either side of Fareeha’s hips. She braced herself on Fareeha’s shoulders, ignoring the smirk on the Egyptian’s face at getting a face-full of Angela’s breasts. Angela bit back a sound as the tip of Fareeha’s sword entered the warmth of her body. Fareeha’s hands gripped her by her rounds, supporting her as the blonde guided herself down. Her mate kissed her wherever her lips could touch, coaxing Angela’s body to relax and accept her. She could feel Fareeha purring against her bosom, the dragon’s joy and pleasure vibrating through their touch down to Angela’s bones. Her body sheathed Fareeha to the hilt, stopping when there was nowhere else for her to go. Fareeha held her still, let her body accept the intrusion. Her lips were restless against Angela’s skin, and her hands massaged Angela’s body wherever they landed. If Angela didn’t relax or respond, Fareeha’s hands moved elsewhere to find those places that brought her mate the most pleasure. But it was that feeling of Fareeha’s hands moving over her that flooded Angela’s senses. That feeling of drowning in the Egyptian’s touch. That feeling of her hands and nothing else.

Fareeha shifted her weight a bit, adjusting underneath Angela. The movement sent her deeper, and Angela gasped and cried out all at once as it struck that place within her. Grinning, Fareeha rocked her hips once more, withdrawing just a bit before sliding back in to touch that sacred place. 

_ More… _

The thought belonged to Angela, the word unable to pass her parted, gasping lips. It was a command, and Fareeha obeyed. She leaned back, bracing an arm against the bed, to give Angela the space she needed. They built a rhythm, as gentle as the wingbeats of flying. The bed squeaked beneath them as Angela rocked on tilting hips, withdrawing and sheathing that flaming sword within her. The bubble built with every thrust that came as easily as breathing. Angela’s hands slid over Fareeha’s chest, admiring at first those firm muscles that were the foundation of the softer pillows of Fareeha’s breasts. They weren’t as big as Angela’s, but the blonde didn’t care. They were perfect for her smaller hands, and Fareeha leaned her head back and moaned as Angela kneaded her bosom and toyed with her nipples. 

Angela leaned over her and kissed her, their lips and tongues melting into one. The blonde tasted herself on Fareeha. Sweat, semen, discharge, saliva; the taste, the smell, the sounds all overpowered her senses. The breath caught in Angela’s chest and her heart stopped as that place was struck one more time, bursting that bubble of pleasure in her abdomen and stopping time and space. She felt Fareeha’s grip on her tighten as the dragon came with her, her throbbing sword pulsing as she ejaculated into the condom against Angela’s quivering walls. When Angela could breathe again, it was in shaking gasps, and when her body allowed her freedom, she collapsed weakly into Fareeha. The Egyptian fell with her, and together they laid on the borrowed bed.

She had no concept of time. They laid there for days, months, years even, before Fareeha worked up the strength to move. Angela, as limp as a doll, was rolled over, and Fareeha grasped the condom by its seal. She pulled out slowly, tenderly, and carefully to not spill her seed into Angela. The blonde appreciated the gesture. She wasn’t ready for children...yet. 

She heard Fareeha go into another room, heard the splashing of water as she washed herself, and could smell the soap that had replaced the scent of their love-making on Fareeha’s hands as she affectionately pet Angela’s hair. She hadn’t realized how starved for another’s touch she had been that Fareeha’s tenderness brought tears to Angela’s eyes.

“What’s the matter,  _ mahbub _ ?”

The blonde shook her head. “I had a bad thought…”

Fareeha brought the covers to Angela’s shoulders and laid down with her in the warmth of the blankest. Their fingers intertwined as she held her hand. “Tell me.”

“What if…” Angela shook her head, closing her eyes tight. “What if there isn’t a ‘next time’? What if this is the only time we have?”

“ _ Amira _ …” Fareeha sighed and smiled, shaking her head. She kissed Angela’s forehead, her cheek, and her lips lightly. “There will be a next time, I promise. Now rest, and dream of sweet things.”


	10. Chapter 10

Angela was still feeling the lasting tinglings in her thighs as they flew that night. That could have also been her legs falling asleep as she straddled the dragon, or there could have been a gap in the layers of cloaks and furs that caused a draft to freeze her exposed skin. Still she smiled as she shifted in her seat, becoming more comfortable with each flight. She didn’t need as many harnesses to hold her in place, trusting her legs and Fareeha to keep her from falling. And even if she did fall, she trusted her mate to catch her. 

Between reading, daydreaming, and dozing, the flight between Bordeaux and London seemed to go by quickly. Even through the darkness of night, Angela could see the city from a distance. The low-hanging cloud of industry glowed orange, as if the heart of the city itself was kept alive by a furnace. And perhaps it was, Angela mused as the dragons began circling down in search of a safe place to land. She could taste the coal and ash in the air long before they entered that dusty cloud, the dragons touching down in an open field across the river from the bustling city. They were a safe distance from view, which meant it would be quite a walk to the only bridge into London.

Reinhardt distributed the fur cloaks heaped onto Angela between the three of them, giving the other two the look of the seasoned warriors of northern legend. He smiled at Angela, as if sensing or seeing her nervousness. 

“Just let us do the talking,” he told her, leading the way to the main road to London Bridge.

“Where are we going?” Angela asked, walking beside Fareeha after him.

“The Goose and Gridiron, in St. Paul’s Churchyard. A favorite of the local dragon hunters. If the tavern becomes too noisy for you, the square is filled with booksellers.” He grinned over his shoulder at her. “There might be one still open this time of night.”

Angela skipped a little as she walked, Fareeha chuckling to herself as her companion gained her second wind for the evening. Despite the hour, they weren’t the only travelers out on the roads or the only adventurers wandering the city streets, and as the trio delved deeper into the heart of the city, London came to life.

The streets were illuminated by hanging lanterns along the streets and in windows, by scattered poles at busy intersections, and by lanterns on crooks in the arms of some of the travelers. Angela could hear music wafting from coffee houses, from taverns and inns, and from a crowded theater that roared like distant thunder with laughter and applause. The streets were packed with vendors, hawking wares and filling the air with the smells of food, the chatter of haggling, and the stories of adventures from one to another. She could spot them easily, those adventurers still on quests and journeys. There were archers and fighters, healers like herself, and thieves. She clung her staff a little tighter and kept close to Fareeha and Reinhardt as the pair carved a path through the crowds.

The packed roads bloomed into an open square as they reached St. Paul’s Churchyard. As Reinhardt promised, Angela spotted the banners and signs of several bookshops surrounding the church, but their destination was none of those. Instead, Reinhart led them to a building marked by the swinging sign of a goose behind gridiron bars, the words “The Swan and the Harp” sarcastically carved beneath. The door was propped open by a stone brick, letting in the cool night air and letting out the murmur of music and conversation.

Reinhardt hesitated before they entered. His gaze shifted from Angela to Fareeha. “Keep her close,” he advised the other dragon.

Fareeha only gave a silent nod as they followed him into the crowded tavern. Angela’s scalp tingled as she felt Fareeha’s mind connect with hers briefly.  _ “Keep your chin up,” _  her mate told Angela.  _ “We must appear not as lovers, but as professional hunters.” _

Angela lifted her head and her eyes, focusing on the center of Fareeha’s back.

The streets of London were abandoned in comparison to how filled the tavern was. Angela couldn’t walk a step without bumping into someone’s back or side as the three waded through the people toward the bar. If Fareeha or Reinhardt had spoken to her, she wouldn’t have heard them over the din of the music being played in an alcove overhead or the conversations that fought for dominance between tables, or the demands for more beer, more ale, more food from the patrons to the wenches that served them. She could smell the fires of a hearth between the stink of sweat compressed in the common room and the savory sinfulness of pork roasting over an open flame, its fat dripping and sizzling on the embers. Angela’s eyes went wide as she watched as one of the patrons grabbed a serving wench and shoved his hand down the front of her corset and apron. Fareeha wrapped an arm around Angela’s waist, pulling her closer.

_ “I thought we weren’t supposed to be lovers,” _ Angela chided her mate with a smile.

Fareeha glanced away to hide her blush.  _ “Warrior women have been known to have brides as well.” _

The healer giggled to herself.

When they reached the bar, Reinhardt made eye-contact with the bartender. The man was portly and greasy, barely garbed in a stained apron and breeches held on by a prayer and suspenders. His grey hair was pulled back into a stubby ponytail, and he had the face of a pig. The bartender leaned over the counter, the two men speaking in low grumbles that Angela had to strain to hear.

“We’re here for the hunt,” Reinhardt told the bartender.

The man snorted, glancing between the three. Angela glanced over her shoulder, noticing that nearby conversations had lowered around them. “You two,” the bartender stated, nodding to Reinhardt and Fareeha, “are welcome to join. But we don’t need  _ her. _ We already have a healer.”

“Two are better than one.”

“Yeah? Well this one is paying the reward.”

Reinhardt’s eyes narrowed. “Interesting.” He stood up straight and pulled a small pouch from a space between his armor and clothes underneath. Ten shillings were counted from the pouch into Angela’s palm. “Find us a nice place to rest through the day,” he told her. Reinhardt offered her a weak smile. “And if you happen to find something nice for yourself, you’re welcome to spend a little. Just remember that we travel lightly.”

Angela nodded, pocketing the shillings in her dress and patting her furs down over it to keep straying hands from reaching her. She felt Fareeha watching her as Angela squeezed out of the tavern. The sapphire helmet was barely visible over the heads of the other occupants from where Angela stood in the doorway, giving her mate one last smile before heading out into the cool early morning.

She couldn’t see the dawn through the smog of the city, but Angela could feel its light trying to pierce the darkness. She knew beyond the blacks and greys of the fog, there would be the oranges and purples of pre-dawn light. The crowds had thinned somewhat, the time nearing its end for adventurers and night-owls in favor of the morning birds and servants waking early to prepare for the day. Standing in the churchyard square, her eyes skimmed the bookstores.

Her gaze stopped on a wisp of blue that darted quickly out of sight into an alley.

Angela tilted her head, following the dimming glow into the maze between buildings and streets. The heavy cloak of furs weighing her down, Angela gave chase as fast as her body would allow. The blue wisp flickered in and out of view. If she got too close, it would zip ahead and leave behind a glimmering trail. Each time Angela grew nearer, she could make out a detail in the darkness. It wasn’t a will-o’-wisp as she first thought, she noticed the first time it zipped away. The light was an amulet or bauble being worn by a person. The blue glow silhouetted the person’s shape in darkness. They were tall and lean, and once, as they ran, the person turned on the ball of their foot to look back at Angela. The light of the blue orb blinded her just enough that Angela was forced to stop to shield her eyes.

When she lowered her hand, the blue and the person were gone.

Angela leaned against her staff as she caught her breath. She shivered, suddenly cold without the warmth of the city lights around her. The alleyway was pitch dark, and she hadn’t paid attention to where she was going. Something skittered in the darkness, and Angela jumped, pointing her staff at the source of the sound. With a thought, the stone of her staff glowed yellow, illuminating the barrels of garbage and the rats that scurried away from her light.

“Blimey! You’ve got a dragonstone!”

Facing the source of the voice, Angela was met by the blue light and the person it was attached to. At first glance, she would have thought they were a boy, but on closer inspection, Angela realized it was a young woman. She grinned with an awkward half-smile, her chocolate-brown hair cut short with a pair of goggles sitting atop her feathery hair like a crown. She wore the clothes of a boy; button-down blouse, breeches, suspenders, and vest. The blue light radiated from between her breasts, the buttons of the blouse undone to expose the blue stone embedded in her chest to the early morning air.

“So do you,” Angela pointed out, trying not to stare. She offered a hand. “Angela.”

“Lena. Lena Oxton.” The hand was accepted, but her smile fell. “You’re not here for the dragon hunt, are you?”

“More of a dragon rescue than hunt.”

The brunette’s grin returned. “Cheers, luv. You’ve met the right mate for that.” She lifted her chin rather proudly, her fists on her hips. “I’m the one they’re huntin’.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to bzarcher for letting me use the concept of Moira being Emily's aunt. Check out their works [over here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12623992). Thank you!
> 
> Also, this chapter contains mention of kidnapping. If this is a trigger for you, please consider skipping this chapter.

It was long past morning before Reinhardt and Fareeha came out of the tavern. Angela waited for them in a bookshop across the square, using the excuse of browsing to spy on the tavern door. She felt the tingle in her skull of Fareeha reaching out to her before Angela saw them. As soon as she spotted a glimmer of Reinhardt’s massive silver frame squeezing through the door, Angela bought a book she had picked out hours ago and dashed across the bustling square to greet them. Fareeha reached out her hand, which Angela took in hers. The warmth of their connection filled her with a renewing energy, and the blonde closed her eyes as Fareeha leaned down to touch her forehead to Angela’s briefly. In that moment, all was exchanged.

“Follow me,” Angela told Reinhardt.

He nodded for her to lead the way, a glimpse to Fareeha confirming that it was better not to ask.

Hand-in-hand with Fareeha, Angela guided them into an alley between two of the bookstores and down a back-road. She followed the twists and turns that Lena had taught her until they came to the residential district and a house, nestled amongst others just like it in a block of other identical houses. Angela started up the small set of stairs leading up to a door, paused, and then went down them once more with a quiet “oops”. She tried again at the stairs next door and “Aah!”ed when she spotted a tiny marking carved into the wood frame of the doorway, almost invisible in the shadows. She pounded on the door three times.

A portly woman opened the door. She was short, coming up to Angela’s elbow, and her ink-black hair was pulled up into curlers. A cigarette hung from her downturned lips, and she wore only a house-robe and slippers.

Her narrow eyes thinned further at the sight of her guests. She muttered something darkly in Chinese under her breath.

“I’ve come to ask about a unicorn,” Angela told her.

“Hmph. I’m sure you have,” the woman replied in broken English. Still, she stood aside and let her guests enter. Reinhardt had to duck to fit into the small foyer. The little woman slammed the door behind them, barred it, and latched it with several locks. “He’s not going to fit.”

“She said he would.”

“Hmph. In pieces, maybe.”

The little woman waddled to the living room and rolled up a rug in the center of the room. She grunted as she turned the latch and opened the trapdoor it had been covering.

“Down you go,” the woman commanded, pointing with two fingers that held her smoking cigarette.

Fareeha and Reinhardt looked between one another. Angela felt her mate’s hesitation, her worries. Had innocent Angela been tricked? Would there be an ambush waiting for them below?

Lena’s voice called from the bottom of the hole. “Oi! Are they here yet?” Her bright blue stone illuminated the bottom of the well and the ladder down. She waved at Reinhardt and Fareeha as they peered down at her. “Blimey! You weren’t kidding when you said he was huge!” She cupped her hands over her mouth. “Mama Hong! I don’t think he’ll fit!”

The Chinese woman chuffed. “Well, you’d better think of a solution soon! Patrol could be here any minute!”

“Patrol?” Reinhardt asked.

Mama Hong crossed her arms over her chest. “Dragon-hunters.” She removed her cigarette from her lips to spit into her dead fireplace. “Hidden dragons have been turning up in London. Where dragons go, so do hunters. They’re paid to bring in anyone who so much as smells like a dragon. So now the big men with the big swords think they have the right to kick in doors and kidnap anyone, under the pretense of dragon-hunting.” She took a long drag from her cigarette, then flicked the bud into the fireplace. The smoke dribbled from her nostrils in two long streams as she looked between the two armored draconians. “My neighbors have probably ratted on me by now. We don’t have much time. Take off your armor. I’ll throw it down. Hopefully there’ll be enough time to seal the well before they catch up to you.”

Reinhardt dropped his heavy hammer down the well, the thud of it hitting the stone below echoing like thunder. He spoke as he worked on the straps and buckles of his armor. “If you need more time, tell them that we are dragon-hunters as well,” he told Mama Hong lowly. “We met with a few earlier this morning. They’ll know our description. Say that we threatened to kill you if you didn’t reveal to us where the others are, and that we went ahead.”

The little woman silently nodded.

Angela dropped her staff to Lena below and helped Fareeha out of her armor. As Fareeha began tossing down her armor to Lena, Angela assisted Reinhardt. They worked silently and swiftly, as if they could hear the hunters marching down the street, closing in on them. Fareeha descended the ladder before Reinhardt started tossing down the pieces of his armor, the Egyptian going between catching the pieces of Reinhardt’s armor and putting her own back on. Angela was shaking by the time she had finished, letting the older man go down first before she followed. Her head had barely cleared the lip of the well before Mama Hong closed the trap door on them. Was that the sound of her heart pounding in her throat or someone beating down Mama Hong’s door?

She descended the ladder as fast as her body would allow, nearly slipping several times. Angela hopped off the ladder a few feet from the bottom, fearing that she would fall and land badly if she didn’t. The landing stung the arches of her feet, and she stumbled a bit as she joined the others. Lena zipped back and forth between the two draconians faster than Angela could blink, helping Fareeha with this strap and then Reinhardt with that one. Between the three of them, Angela knew she’d only get in the way if she tried to help. Instead, she picked up her staff and leaned against the same spot it had once occupied against a wall, using the moment to gather her wits and nerves.

The only light in the darkness was from Lena’s blue stone. Angela whispered a spell and the stone of her staff lit as well, dimming at a command to keep from being blinding. There was no exchange of words between the four as Lena took the lead, Reinhardt following, and Fareeha and Angela tailing behind. Angela held her staff in one hand, and Fareeha entwined her fingers with the other. The butt of Angela’s staff tapped against the smooth stone of the sewer walkway, water rushing past them from storm drains all around the city above. Angela nearly gagged at the stink of it; she had smelled worse in the past with her work as a healer, and it was only this that kept her from becoming sick.

How many miles they walked, Angela didn’t know. The winding labyrinth belowground was equally as confusing as aboveground that even if Angela had a map, she knew she’d be just as lost. There weren’t any visible markings on the carved walls that could be mistaken as checkpoints or arrows to direct them, save for Lena’s confidence. She led them around a corner and to a door, their guide pausing to pat herself down in search of a key that unlocked the heavy iron lock loudly. The door swung open into a wine cellar, and the staircase at the other end of the cellar led up into another tavern.

Unlike the “Goose and Gridiron”, this one was homely and warm. Angela drew in a deep breath to clear her lungs of the stink of the sewer, and was greeted by the scents of spiced wine heating over a hearth and savory pasties still in the oven. The common room was open and spacious, with only a handful of other guests spread about the tables and benches. The windows were washed clean of the soot of the city, and through them, Angela could see rolling fields.

Lena took them to a table and flopped down into a chair. A middle-aged woman with a streak of silver in her fire-red hair came up to them, her apron and dress clean of grease or soil. Despite her smile, her eyes and cheeks were puffy and red.

“Friends of yours?” She asked Lena, glancing nervously between her and the two draconians in heavy armor. Angela tilted her head, the woman’s accent similar to Lena’s, save for an upward twang. 

The brunette nodded. “They’re here to help me and Emily,” Lena explained.

“Oh thank goodness,” the red-head sighed as she slumped into a chair as well. Her watery eyes turned to Reinhardt. “Have you seen her? Is she okay? Have they hurt her?”

He reached across the table and rested his hands on hers. “We haven’t seen her, but we know they have her. Please, start from the beginning.”

The woman nodded, withdrawing her hands from his to smooth the wrinkles from her apron. “My Emily and Lena have been…” She sighed. “No, that’s not where it started…”

Her eyes were on her fidgeting fingers, tracing the intricate embroidery of her apron as if the story were within the weaving patterns of thread. “We were chased out of Ireland when Emily was just a babe. Dragons ran in the family, and our little country village stopped being so friendly after the purge.” She laughed weakly, wiping tears from her cheeks. “I thought we’d left the hatred behind, and I began to hope my Emily would be able to grow and flourish in peace. She grew into a lovely young woman, met Lena, and fell in love.”

Emily’s mother drew a shaky breath. Lena scooted her chair closer to wrap her arms around the woman, who accepted the hug and leaned into Lena in return. “That didn’t stop them,” the older woman continued. “The suitors still dogged her, even after telling them ‘no’ again and again, that she already had a suitor, that she was already being courted.”

“We bought matching rings,” Lena interjected, taking off a glove to show the gold band, decorated by two hands holding a crowned heart. “We hoped it would discourage them, but…”

“But it didn’t,” Emily’s mother continued. “I dare say it made things worse. They started threatening us, warning us that they’d send the dragon hunters after us if she didn’t court one of them. And then...one day…”

She sobbed into a handkerchief in her hands. Lena had to finish the story. “Rumors started spreading that I was a dragon and that I had cast a spell on her. The dragon hunters came in droves. They took Emily when she went out to get supplies for the kitchen. Grabbed her! Right in broad daylight! They sent a note about a week ago, offering a trade. My life for her’s.” Lena closed her eyes, resting her head on Emily’s mother’s bright red hair. “I have until tonight to decide.”

Holding Fareeha’s hand, Angela could taste the burn of sulphur in the back of her throat as her mate seethed in silence beside her. Angela tried to imagine cool spring waters and the snow in the mountains, anything to cool down her lover.

“It won’t be a trade,” Fareeha snarled, despite Angela’s best efforts. “It’ll be a slaughter. They’re laying out a trap, and Emily is the bait.”

Reinhardt tiredly explained. “A dozen mercenaries are in on the hunt, all being paid by an unknown woman. All they would tell us was that she was a powerful healer with influential connections, and that she would reward all who participated in the hunt wealthily.”

Angela didn’t need a connection, spiritual or otherwise, to know what Fareeha had thought about that.

_ Talon. _

The silver dragon pulled a map from his armor and unrolled it across the table. The corners were weighed down with forks, knives, empty mugs, and a jar of salt. “Emily will be here,” he indicated with a small jar of honey, laying it in the center of an open field south of the Thames. “One of the mercenaries, a mad little Australian I’ve been told, can supposedly build traps large and strong enough to capture a dragon. The fellows at the tavern didn’t say how many he had or where they would be placed, so we can only guess and adjust.”

They emptied their pockets; the contents of buttons, coins, and trinkets made up the smattering of “traps” around “Emily”.

“Their plan is simple,” Reinhardt continued. “They expect the dragon to land near Emily to free her and become caught in the traps. Their healer will then cast an enfeebling spell on the dragon to weaken her for the mercenaries to slay and harvest the dragon stone. When I asked about the captured young woman, the mercenaries we spoke with only said, ‘The witch will take her home.’”

“Moira,” Emily’s mother hissed. “How could she do this to us? To her own niece?!”

“We’ll do everything we can to bring her back safely,” Fareeha assured her.

Angela heard little of the conversation, her eyes on the map before them. Glancing up, she saw Lena’s gaze on the layout of the traps. She could see the wheels turning behind the younger woman’s chocolate brown eyes. Those eyes flicked up to meet Angela’s, and a smirk grew on Lena’s lips.

“How much would their little plan crumble if I didn’t fly in?” Lena asked.

“From what I understand, the whole thing hinges on you getting caught in those traps,” replied Reinhardt.

Lena’s smirk bloomed to a full grin. “Then I guess I ought to not get caught.”

“What are you saying?” Emily’s mother asked, drying her face with her handkerchief.

“She’s fast,” Angela answered. “Faster than anything I’ve ever seen. There’ll have to be space between the traps for the mercenaries to pass safely. Lena can zip past them all, get Emily, and carry her to safety.”

“Meanwhile,” added Fareeha, “we can fly around distracting the mercenaries. Once Lena and Emily are clear of the area, we can unleash dragonfire on the traps to destroy them.”

“I can ride on Fareeha’s back and channel my magic to strengthen the power of your attacks and counter the enemy’s enfeebling spell. If we catch each other in the crossfire, I can heal your wounds as well.”

Lena hugged her lover’s mother, her arms around the woman’s shoulders. “Everything will be alright after all!”

The older woman shook her head. “But it won’t be the end. They’ll just try again, and next time, they’ll be better prepared.”

Reinhardt drew a deep sigh, as if knowing this conversation would come. “After tonight, I wouldn’t recommend that you or your family remains in England. We were sent to find you and relocate you to our hidden sanctuary in Spain. Originally we were sent to find Lena and to retrieve her and her dragonstone, but our home is open to all dragons and their human allies. Our resources are stretched thin, and it’s always chaotic with new arrivals, but all of you would be welcome there.”

“Is it safe?” Emily’s mother asked.

“Ma’am, every --”

“Is. It. Safe.”

Again the silver dragon sighed, those long hours of flight catching up to him after hours without sleep. “No, it isn’t. Until Talon is wiped out and the wound between dragon- and human-kind is healed, we will never be safe. We will always be hunted, and we will always be forced to stay one step ahead of the hunters. We have been fortunate so far, but only fate knows how long that luck will last.”

“Well then.” Emily’s mother smoothed her apron and nodded. “I’m glad that you’re honest about it.” She smiled weakly and stood. “I’ll be packed before you leave tonight. In the meantime, would you like something to eat?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Before you get to the chapter, I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you all for reading and showing your support by commenting and, well, reading! A big shout-out to my beta reader, [Lunari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunari/pseuds/Lunari), who has been with me on this journey through thick and thin. Be sure to check her out!

Angela’s heart hammered in her chest, the beating of war drums down below echoing in her throat and ears. Her whole body vibrated with adrenaline, nervousness, and fear. Her perch on top of the London Bridge didn’t help matters either, and had she not been exhausted from having to climb the endless ladders to get to where she was or the threat of the coming battle, she would have enjoyed the cool breeze and the view. But as it was, there was little to see, and even being this high up, the wind carried the stench of the Thames to her. She had to strain to see the dozen or so mercenaries gathered in the field, mulling about as Emily stood alone in the center of the open space.

They had her in a cart. The oxen that had pulled the four-wheeled cart had already been freed from the yoke and led away, leaving the young woman isolated. From her perch, Angela couldn’t see if it was rope or chains that bound her to the stake, but she could almost understand the terror and sorrow the young woman must be feeling.  _ That could have easily been me, _ Angela thought, watching a limping little figure stroll up to the cart to dance around in a mad jig.

The mercenaries separated to stab long, spear-like torches into the ground, lighting them to combat the orange twilight. A thrill of renewed anticipation and adrenaline shuddered through Angela at the sight of the traps being laid out in a seemingly random configuration. The traps looked to be the same size as the dancing madman laying them out.

Angela jumped at the sound of a muffled gunshot, her head turning in time to see a grapple hook wind around a beam nearby. She scurried back into a corner, curling tight on herself and tucking her staff behind a pillar to hide the yellow stone. The whizz of the motor pulling someone up was barely audible over the sound of her heart in her ears, and her whole body and soul flinched at the sight of raven black hair and purple-blue skin popping over the edge of the bannister of the bridge tower.

Widowmaker climbed numbly over the edge of the tower, untangling her grappling hook from the beam above. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she glanced around the tiny area, checking her surroundings. Angela hid her mouth and nose behind her hands, praying the sniper couldn’t hear her heart beating or her struggles to silence her breathing. Widowmaker hung the hook on her belt and drew a knife from a sheath strapped to her thigh. Angela’s gaze locked on that knife as slowly the spider stalked closer. 

The assassin jumped back as a pigeon flew out of a nest somewhere above Angela’s head. Widowmaker scowled at the shadows, but sheathed her knife once more and unclipped the rifle from her back. She laid on her stomach on the dusty floor, spreading the legs of her rifle’s stand and propping the muzzle on the lip of the bannister between two stone blocks. From where she sat, Angela could see down the sniper’s scope. Her sights were on Emily. Widowmaker shifted in small movements, bracing the rifle and putting the scope to her eye.

Moving only her arm, she withdrew a black stone from a pocket-pouch on her belt. A rune glowed red as she held the stone to her lips. “I’m in position,” she whispered to the onyx in her hand.

The rune turned from red to green as another woman’s voice replied, “Good. Take a look at the old man and the Egyptian in blue armor. Rutledge didn’t like the look of them, and nor do I.”

Angela could only watch as Widowmaker set the black stone against the wall, lifted her head to get a reference point, and turned her rifle in their direction. She hissed as the rune turned red for her to speak. “Overwatch.”

The voice on the other end of the communication stone purred in sadistic delight. “I thought so. Are there any others here?”

Widowmaker swiveled her rifle slowly, skimming the faces of the mercenaries present. “ _ Non _ , just those two. Their little healer must be hiding somewhere.”

“What a pity. I would have liked to get a taste of her power...and her blood.”

The assassin smirked to herself as she resettled the rifle back in its original position. “As would I. Tell Rutledge to watch those two. When the battle begins, hook them.”

“Understood.”

Angela’s blood went cold at Widowmaker’s command. Nowhere in Reinhardt’s plan did they account for this; for an agent of Talon to be five feet from where Angela was supposed to be picked up by her mate, or for the two warriors to be recognized by the enemy. She closed her eyes and tried to reach out across the distance to Fareeha. The chill of the established mental connection was like being dunked in a mountain spring. She searched for Fareeha’s heartbeat to match with her own, but felt nothing but ice. Angela shivered at the sound of Widowmaker chuckling lowly to herself.

“Aah, so you  _ were _ hiding there,  _ chéri _ ,” Widowmaker purred lowly. She tilted herself a bit to look over her shoulder directly at the healer. “I thought I’d felt your presence. You’re still too weak to reach her, even if you love her so much, and still too innocent to protect yourself from being caught.”

When Angela didn’t reply, a spike of ice stabbed the back of her mind, forcing a cry of pain from Angela’s lips. The pain receded as quickly as it had struck, leaving behind a gaping numbness that made her thoughts fuzzy. Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed on her. “I can kill Emily now,  _ chéri.  _ Or you can come out of hiding, nice and slow,” she patted the space next to her, “and make yourself comfortable where I can see you.”

As slowly as her body would allow, Angela stood. She laid her staff between them, as if its presence would create a barrier to protect her from the spider’s influence, from the assassin’s deadly touch. She laid on her stomach, propped up a bit on her elbows. The sky above them darkened to royal velvet, casting a golden glow on the scene below. 

“Will you be able to see your targets in the dark?” Angela asked, failing to hide her curiosity in her voice. 

Widowmaker smirked, lowering a pair of goggles over her eyes. “No one can hide from my sight.”

Angela said nothing more, her mind spinning in search of an escape. Alerting Fareeha was now out of the question, with Widowmaker able to sense and block any attempts to reach out to the Egyptian. She glanced at Widowmaker in time to see her look away, caught. If she couldn’t warn the others…Her options were limited. She could try to turn their mental link against the assassin by feeding her misinformation, by shouting in her mind to distract Widowmaker, or even turning her seductive nature against her. Could an assassin with a heart of ice be seduced? Angela could only find out by trying. Even if it bought her friends a only few moments, she had to try. Angela shifted where she lay, feeling the holster and pistol against her thigh. If seduction didn’t work, she could always try to out-fight the spider. Again, they’d only need just a few seconds to escape the sniper’s sights. Angela didn’t even have to shoot Widowmaker herself. A few shots into the air would be enough to alert Fareeha to the danger.

She bit her lower lip, adjusting her position. Her shoulder dropped to make her half-turn, the arch of her back and tilt of her neck exposing more of her skin to the cool night air. And Widowmaker’s gaze. As she shifted, she caught Widowmaker watching her. Her mind reaching out and touching their mental connection, she tried to imagine the feel of those cold hands on her body; running down the length of her neck to touch her bosom or up her leg towards the warmth of her womanhood.

“How long do you think it’ll be?” Angela asked in a heated whisper. “Before the dragon appears, I mean.”

The assassin smirked. Her hand shot out between them to grasp Angela by her throat, dragging her so close to Widowmaker’s face that the healer could smell expensive wine and cheap cigarettes on the sniper’s breath. “Do not think you can distract me from my mission,  _ chéri _ ,” Widowmaker hissed lowly to Angela. She gave the blonde a squeeze before shoving her away and resuming her position, scoffing as she gazed down her scope once more. “I will toy with you later, when your precious mate is dead and her stone harvested along with the others.”

Angela huffed defeatedly, returning to her stomach. Her eyes fell onto the yellow stone of her staff.  _ Her _ dragonstone. She pursed her lips in thought. “What can I offer you to change sides? Or at the very least to hold your fire?”

“Hmph. There is nothing you have that could tempt me.”

“Not even my dragonstone?”

Widowmaker’s gaze flicked from the scope to the yellow stone at the end of Angela’s staff. Her gaze shifted briefly to Angela’s face, confirming the sincerity of the offer with a mere glance. Again, the assassin scoffed at her. “When my mission is complete, you and your staff will be in my possession. Now be silent, or I will silence you myself.”

The healer physically bit her tongue. She was running out of options, and as she caught a glimpse of a sparkle of blue down below, she knew she was running out of time. Angela took a slow, steadying breath and emptied her mind. Widowmaker couldn’t know what she was going to try. Her left hand shook as she moved it slowly to not draw the assassin’s attention. She hiked the side of her skirt up carefully and grabbed the grip of her pistol. Rolling quickly, Angela drew her pistol and fired it blindly towards the sniper.

Her shot missed, zipping over Widowmaker’s head without so much as grazing her hair. She may not have gotten her mate’s attention, but she certainly grabbed Widowmaker’s. The assassin tumbled away from Angela and dropped her rifle, drawing her knife. Angela pulled herself up to her knees, holding the pistol with both hands now as she aimed and fired. Moving faster than humanly possible, Widowmaker dodged her shots. Snarling, she sprung to pounce on Angela. Screaming, Angela threw her pistol at Widowmaker and ducked under the assassin. 

Angela’s hand fell onto her staff, and she brought it up just in time to block the knife coming down on her. Widowmaker dropped the blade in favor of grabbing the staff with both hands.The two women rolled for dominance. Angela found herself on her back, Widowmaker grinning as she pushed the blonde’s staff to her throat.

“Reaper wants you alive,” Widowmaker purred. “He didn’t say you had to be conscious. Sleep,  _ chéri. _ Let the cold embrace you…”

“ _ Tarajie, _ ” Angela hissed.

“ _ Pardon _ ?”

“It means fuck off!”

With all of her strength, Angela tucked her legs between them and kicked Widowmaker upwards, over the lip of the bannister. Widowmaker didn’t scream as she fell, and Angela knew it was only a matter of time before the spider would be back. Scrambling to her feet, Angela leaned over the bannister.

“Fareeha!” Angela shouted her lover’s name with all of her voice, her heart, and her soul.

The sapphire dragon flew towards Angela at the sound of her name, dodging orbs of purple magic and flying firebombs. Angela drew a nervous breath, climbing onto the stone bannister. Behind her, she heard the grappling hook winding around a beam once more, the rope tightening, and the skittering of Widowmaker climbing up the tower once more.

“I trust you,” Angela whispered to the wind as she leapt off of the London Bridge tower.

She didn’t fall far, landing on Fareeha’s back between her wings. The dragon dipped beneath her, Angela’s harsh landing knocking the flying dragon off-balance for a moment. She crawled up Fareeha’s back carefully, settling herself in her normal spot. Angela surveyed the battle as Fareeha flew to the flaming fields and scattered mercenaries, pointing her staff at Reinhardt as he dove toward the burning battlefield. A beam of white light poured from the head of her staff, encasing him and empowering him.

An orb of purple magic flew up from the ground and hit the crimson dragon. Angela could only assume this was Emily’s true form; Lena wobbled on the back of the crimson beast as it began to sink, falling more than flying. Angela turned her staff to Emily, the light transforming from white to yellow as she cast the healing spell to negate the dark magic cast on her friend.

“We need to leave!” Angela shouted as Reinhardt flew near her.

The silver dragon nodded and banked northwards, flying back towards London. Angela knew the plan. Once there was enough distance and altitude between them and any other dragons that may follow, they’d turn inland toward Germany where they would stop at Eichenwald Castle to rest. Angela felt herself grinning as Emily and Lena came up to fly beside Fareeha, the two female dragons in the wake of Reinhardt. Lena waved, and Angela waved back, laughing.

She felt the bullet before she heard the echoing thunder of the shot. It slammed into her side with enough force to knock her off of Fareeha’s back. The punch of the bullet was shortly followed by the fiery stab of pain from the bullet digging its way through her flesh. As she fell, she drew a mental chart. Kidney, intestine, appendix...She’d be suffering from septic poisoning soon. And she was falling. She saw Fareeha above her, reaching out to her. Why couldn’t she catch her? Another shot cracked like thunder, and Fareeha jolted to one side.

Hit.

The Thames caught Angela.

Her back slammed against the frigid surface of the river. As darkness and putrid liquid filled her, she amused herself with the mental image of an egg splattering on stone.

She would have laughed, if she could breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the end of Act 1... and also, unfortunately, the end of my backlog. 
> 
> I'm so sorry to do this, but I have run out of steam and need to set this fic aside for a while. I don't know for how long, so please don't ask. I promise that this isn't the end and I'll come back to it! I'm just not quite sure when.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading. I love you all, and I hope you'll come back when I have more to share!


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